Guilty until Proven Innocent
by LadySiwnf
Summary: Hogwarts is finished for the famous trio, except one friend will not be joining in the celebrations: Hermione Granger is being hunted by the Ministry for the attempted and near fatal murder of Harry Potter. Now she’s on the run, hunted by people she once
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1:  
Shadows at Malfoy Manor**

A hooded figure walked the streets. A black cloak blew around the person's knees as they desperately tried to battle the storm. Rain blasted into their face and thunder roared over their head. The figure avoided streetlights and stuck to the shadows. It walked quickly and quietly, its feet, strangely, making no noise.

The rain and wind changed direction and blasted the figure from the side, nearly tipping it over. It kept walking, its feet walked into puddle after puddle but it took no notice. Anyone watching would have wondered what sort of person would be out on a night like this. This person was looking for something.

Shortly after they found it. The figure had arrived a great, black iron gate. The gate had only a simple lock but the figure knew there were different sort of locks keeping unwanted people out, or keeping them in.

Not knowing how to get in the figure looked for an opening. There was none. Not wanting to touch the gate, the figure pulled out something from its cloak. To what may have been a stick to most people was actually a wand.

The figure aimed the wand at the gates and muttered a simple word. Even someone standing right next to the figure would have been unable to hear the word, because the wind took her words away.

From the wand erupted a small red jet of light that hit one of the bars of the gate. It seemed to be absorbed by the gate then seconds later the jet discharged from the gate and was aimed back at the figure. Acting quickly the figure stepped aside and watched as the jet passed it and hit a bush across the road. The bush caught alight quickly, in a brilliant purple flame. With a wave of the figure's wand the flame went out and the bush returned to normal.

After trying several times and getting the same response the figure gave up and tried looking for a new way. There was no way the figure could get through without having to touch the black iron.

Sighing, the figure knew it had to resort to its last option. Looking around quickly and making sure no one was in view the figure stepped into a large shadow, caused by an over hanging oak tree. Minutes later another figure appeared, except this figure wasn't human. A beautiful brown eagle stepped out of the shadows. Spreading its wings it flew calmly over the gate and landed lightly on the ground.

Transforming back into the hooded figure it started walking up the long concrete driveway. All the figure left behind as evidence of this transformation was a single brown feather.

Every tree the figure pasted seemed to glare disapprovingly. Every time the wind blew and caused a tree's branches to shiver the figure would look up in alarm, as if expecting something.

Nothing happened.

Every step the figure took seemed to take an eternity and the driveway seemed to go on forever. Until a shape above the trees, was seen did the figure know it was making progress.

As the figure came around the corner it spotted the house it had been looking for.

Thunder rolled overhead and a fork of lighting flashed behind the house, causing the figure to step back and the house to be eliminated. For a spilt second the figure caught sight of windows, covered by black curtains, black walls running with water, and the endless height and enormity of the house.

The house its self was imposing, but the figure was scared of what was on the other side of the double doors instead what it saw now.

Taking in a big breath the figure started to walk up the stone steps. By the time the cover of the roof had protected the figure from the rain, it was creating its own puddle, as water dripped of its clothes and cloak.

Shaking from the cold wind and the dampness of its clothes the figure stepped in front of the double doors and raised a small white hand to knock. Its knuckles had barely knocked three times before the door was opened.

The bright light of the house cast a warm glow outside onto the steps and a small house elf stood in the door. The male house elf had the usual point ears and big eyes. But this elf was wearing a simple outfit of: black pin-stripped pants and a white, button-up top. The figure was slightly amazed that the house elf was dressed so finely. He looked the figure up and down before raising its noise in the air and disappearing with a small _pop_.

The figure waited outside, not wanting to step inside the house without permission, considering it was dripping wet.

The wind increased and the rain beat down harder, before the house elf finally returned. This time it brought a "friend". Walking up behind the house elf was the figure of Draco Malfoy. White, blonde hair gleaming in the light, it looked like he had grown over the time period the figure had seen him last. One thing hadn't changed though, the figure thought.

Draco Malfoy was now looking the figure up and down with the same usual smirk.

"Who are you, what do you want and how the bloody hell did you get past the gate? Malfoy said rudely. The figure smiled at the use of words, glad that the hood was up and that he couldn't see its smile.

Biting its tongue so it wouldn't answer, it pretended not to hear Malfoy's words and instead looked down at its feet.

Getting impatient Malfoy started tapping his foot. When he didn't receive an answer he cocked his head slightly to the left. A wind came from somewhere in the house and hit the figure full in the face, causing the hood to fly down and rest on the figure's back. The figured looked up and stared the young Malfoy right in the eye.

The usual cool face of Draco Malfoy changed from a smirk to a one of shock as he viewed the person in front of him. Shocked, though, was replaced very quickly with one of superiority and scorn.

"_Granger_" he sneered.


	2. Alliances with the Enemy

**Chapter 2:**

Alliances with the Enemy 

"Well, well, well. If it isn't the traitor: Granger. What are you here for? Going to double cross me, now are you? I'm surprised you didn't crawl back into the hole you came from. You would have been doing a lot of people a big favour, you know," mocked Malfoy.

Trying vainly to ignore the verbal blows Hermione diverted her attention to the wall opposite her. It was a striking shade of green and admittedly not as interesting as Hermione hoped it to be. Speaking quietly she said, "I need your help."

Faking deafness Malfoy asked, "I'm sorry Granger what was that? Could you speak a bit louder? It would seem your little escapades have weakened your voice."

Hermione narrowed her eyes while turning her attention back to Draco Malfoy's face. Through gritted teeth she replied, "I. Need. Your. Help." As an after thought she added '_you conceited bastard'_.

Smirking Malfoy placed his hands behind his back and started walking around the pale figure. He admitted he had far more pleasing sites in his young years: dripping, bushy hair, ripped cloak, drenched clothes, haunted eyes, bruises, cuts and general unpleasant expression created a distinct and rather objectionable appearance.

Under the young Malfoy's scrutinising gaze Hermione stilled her anger; it would not be in her own best interests to lash out now.

Still smirking, Malfoy met Hermione's steady glare and replied smartly, "What do you need my help for Granger? You've got yourself into a bigger mess that I could have created for you. I'll tell you how it is Granger: I could turn you over the Ministry right at this very moment. They would lap any false story wouldn't they Granger?" Hermione's mouth turned down at the corners in an obvious gesture of distaste. "They would believe me without question and you word would be worth shit."

Hermione stood still and just continued to glower, knowing he was perfectly right. Her word was worth, as he put it, shit and anything offensive she said could change Malfoy's mind to her proposal.

Malfoy continued smoothly on, "There is nothing in the world I would like more that to hand you over Granger and see you thrown into Azkaban but… fortunately for you I'm curious. Why are you coming to me, Granger? Shouldn't you be back trying to convince your goody, goody friends that you're innocent? It worked _really_ well last time. Instead you're on _my _doorstep, dripping wet and not a pretty sight I might add. You _are_ going to tell me why and if not… well then you can say a little _cheerio_ to the Dementors for me."

Hermione felt a icy finger run down her spine at the mention of the Azkaban guards. How close she had been last time…

Straightening herself mentally, Hermione opened her mouth to speak when she was sharply cut off.

"Oh, and spare me the melodramatics Granger. I'm already very familiar with what you did to get you here. What possible help do you think I would give an senseless criminal and why don't you start with how you got past the gate without setting off any alarms?"

Sighing Hermione began her tale, "To start with, I flew over the gate."  
Malfoy who had been standing perfectly at ease suddenly straightened his position and then unexpectedly started chuckling to himself. The part of Hermione's brain that was not currently feeding off stress was shocked to mark that the sound carried no hint of anger, malice of cruelty.

"Tsk, tsk Granger! You can't take me for a fool! Any half-wit, such as you would know that the alarm spells are triggered when a human presence comes in contact with the barrier. Since my family can afforded the _best_, the spell barrier spans at least fifty metres in the air. Not to mention certain other precautions we take. You would have set of the any number of the alarms! Then there is the fact that I hardly doubt you're capable of full human transfiguration. Modify your story and try telling me the truth this time." Malfoy leaned casually against the door and started to play, quite deliberately, with the dark wand in his pocket.

'_Will nothing satisfy this man! I give him truth and yet he still proceeds to insult and taunt me like some stupid first ye,ar' _thought Hermione angrily. However the deliberate gestor did catch her attention and she realised that she had perhaps been stretching the time a little too thin. Needless to say she wasn't going to pass a chance to get the better of the greasy-haired wizard, "Like I said Malfoy I flew over. I didn't set off the alarms because I wasn't human was I?"

Glaring furiously at the blonde Malfoy Hermione resisted the urge to yell that if he were the half the wizard he thought he was, he would have figured that out by now. '_But nooo! I needed to spoon feed this bastard the information because he was the only one left who was in the only position to help me_.'

"You're an unregistered Animagus. You didn't set off the alarms because only registered Animagi set off the alarm or any animal logged into the alarm's code," Malfoy muttered darkly.

'_Bravo genius!' _reflected Hermione irritably, '_Give the boy first prize!'_

Realising Malfoy expected her to continue she started on the story, "Malfoy, I'm here because I need your help. As much as I despise the fact you're the only one left in any position to help me," not waiting for any sort of answer Hermione continued straight on, "I do need the _resources_ you can provide.To put it simply you have connections and I need to clear my name."


	3. Fooling Disguises

**Chapter 3:**

**Fooling Disguises**

"You are quite right Granger," Malfoy answered smugly "I _do_ have connections. But I really don't think that you want to be messing around with these people. They aren't the muggle loving, hugging type you are used to."

Abruptly the young man's attitude turned sour, "For God' sake, just go home Granger! You committed a crime so pay the price for it."

Something broke inside Hermione. For too long had people been telling her she had done wrong in a way that betrayed everything she ever knew. She knew, down to her very core, that she hadn't done that… that thing.

"SHUT UP MALFOY AND FUCKING LISTEN TO ME! Do NOT dare to presume that I am the same person you knew! I'm different from then; I'm tougher, smarter and a whole lot more ready to stick that wand of yours where the sun don't shine if you don't cut the crap and listen to me. I know quite well what those contacts of yours are like but I have _nothing _to lose." Hermione paused to gather her breath. "Do you understand!? I have nothing: No friends, no family, no home and no way out except this one. I DON"T CARE what you think but regardless I need your help and I'm if I'm willing to get here then you could at least shut that greasy trap and listen."  
In an instance the wild rage in Hermione faded in an exhausted sorrow, "Please Malfoy, I'm begging you. Listen to me and try to understand."

Malfoy's mind did a mental back flip before rearranging itself. Did Granger have multiple personalities? As entertaining as thought was, he sincerely doubted it: the frizzy hair was undeniable. The tongue, however, certainly had become a little more pointed and sharp.

Best course of action for a clearly stressed and hormonal female was to keep his cool; it was likely just to frustrate Granger more and it allowed him the emotional advantage, "First thing Granger: you mouth has grown up but I don't want to see how far- _ever again_. Second: _no one_ forces a Malfoy, especially this one, to do anything they don't want to. Lastly: even if I did agree, by some miraculous chance, what would be you plan then? Huh?"

Hermione stood silently for a few seconds. This was her final chance to put the plan into action. In order to complete the first stage she needed to show Malfoy that her plan was foolproof and worry of debate. If he didn't like her plan it was going to be a one way ticket to Azkaban.

"My plan is to infiltrate the Death Eater inner circle and gain-" said Hermione before she has immediately cut off.

"Hold it there Granger. I think I finally get it," proclaimed Malfoy.

Hermione's eyes light up in hope and she silently allowed the feeling to seep into her heart. Unwillingly thoughts of a clear name and normal life flashed through her brain.

Malfoy continued on, "Yes… I finally see that this little traumatic experience has completely altered your sense of reality and by coming here you are just trying to fulfil a demented suicide attempt. You just stay there Granger, I'm going to get the Ministry. If you're lucky they might send you to St Mungo's Ward for the Criminally Desperate and Deranged."

Malfoy turned to walk back into the house but Hermione lunged desperately at his arm, grabbing hold with wet and clammy hands. Malfoy turned his head and glowered venomously at the offending appendage.

"Please Malfoy! I beg of you, help me. To any sense of valour you may have, you're the only one left. There's nothing in it for you, I know that. I know you want to see me dead but… but you can't just let them take me back there for something I didn't do," Hermione begged, her throat grew tighter and raw as she fought back the wave of helplessness and grief. Her entire fate, her future and her very life had been inexplicitly placed in the hands of one who truly wanted to cause her harm.

'_The Gods are playing a cruel game of Russian Roulette with my life'_ Hermione noted.

Disgusted Malfoy tore Hermione's hand off his arm and looked into the face of the woman who had mysteriously turned up on his doorstep. In a second, the fiery bookworm had become broken and lifeless. The instinct to fight and protect he had witnessed so many times was gone. The new self was easily recognisable to one such as himself; a pure Slytherin who constantly knew of deception and betrayal, to always be ready for revenge, retribution and how had come to an ultimate conclusion no one could be trusted (even one's own self under torment).

He should have just turned his back and summoned the Ministry officials but something was stopping him. Malfoy quickly decided, on the barest of whims, it would do no harm to hear her plan. After all Slytherins or even former Slytherins were the only ones who make up any sort of decent plans. It was known throughout history that Gryffindor plans consisted of charging in heroically and stupidly into the situation. Slytherins were more known for taken the back door and dealing sufficiently with anyone in the way- hoping the idiotic lions out front would keep everyone distracted.

Besides it was not as if he had anything better to do and it could provide some extra credit for when he resolved to call the Ministry, "Fine Granger. Let us hear the rest of this _fantastic_ plan."

Hermione sighed at her fortune and continued on, "I _would like_ to gain access to the information I need to clear my name about the crime I didn't committed. To do this I need to go to the source of the complication, which I believe, revolves around the group to be the real perpetrators: the Death Eaters and their leader. Obviously I can't enter with my identity I have now so, I would have to take on the persona of a foreign lady staying at your manor. At the right time I would reveal my aptitude for the dark arts and announce my intention to become a Death Eater, a position I aspire to for purely personal reasons. This done I would wait until I had the information I need, fake my murder and return to the Ministry with proof of my innocence."

Hermione finished and waited in hope. Malfoy stood thoughtfully n the doorway. It wasn't what he expected: it certainly wasn't charging stupidly into a Death Eater meeting and thrusting a wand in their faces demanding information. But still it lacked vital point- or three.

"Interesting, Granger. But you are missing a few key ideas. For one thing, you plan rests entirely on my good will and your belief that I won't turn you over to either of the aggressors. Another is that you plan would mean spending possibly weeks, months or years in the vicinity with me. Something, I assure you, I do not like. Perhaps the last point is that I seriously doubt you could pull it off. You are not the typical type of women associated with the Malfoy family and as for your amazing abilities in the dark arts…well Wimbie the house elf here could curse you into next week blindfolded. Additionally, you still haven't mentioned any possible benefits for me in this plan and it better out rank spending a long time with you in this house, with _no one else _for entertainment."

"Since you are so insistent on the matters of equivalent exchange… you can take what ever pleasure you wish from my torment. If it comes down to it you can gloat and condemn me all you wish. Free reign to pull all the strings. I know what is ahead of me and you can have a front row seat while I'm put through hell and dropped back on Earth. As a teacher, you can inflict whatever lessons you think I will _need _but I emphasis they can't not cause harm with intention to killI also promise you that I will not certainly be looking like I do now: I will be using The Dissimulo potion, which I have already. As for the Dark Arts, it's covered and you don't need to doubt that," said Hermione. She stared definitely into the grey eyes of the Malfoy and they could be no doubt she meant it. Only Hermione knew what this conviction had cost her.

For nearly the third time that night Malfoy had nothing to say. She gave a good argument. He still doubted she could pull of any Dark Arts; it took a dark heart and the famous Trio only ever had bouncing, fluffly, pink ones. She probably had everything planned to the last detail and if anything went wrong Malfoy was certain she would have a plan for that to. It was an almost faultless plan…

Malfoy shook his head mentally. What was he thinking? He was actually on the verge of agreeing to help a goody-to-shoes muggleborn: the same muggleborn that had caused him to be on the wrong end of his father's wand numerous times.

Yet something was pushing the young Malfoy, the same feeling that convinced him to hear her plan in the first place. As the silence dragged n it continued to work upon Malfoy's mind- whispering thoughts it should have stayed away from.

_I'm only doing it for a laugh, _he thought, _and if anything goes wrong I get out. Then, when she's dead or in Azkaban I tell everything the story. It is nothing more than a game to pass time, plus it means I get one back on Father._

Time passed slowly as Hermione waited. Her fate not rested on a very sharp and, distinctly blonde, knife-edge. Even though she boasted she could, she doubted if she could make a Malfoy do anything against his will. Hermione could feel the tension building like an angry cloud growing around her.

'_Please, if there is a God out there let it help me now. Please'!_ she silently begged. The thunder only rolled over head for an answer.

Both were so warped into there own thoughts they never saw the others thoughtful process. Hermione is particular didn't realise she had been answered until she felt glaring eyes on her.

"What?" she demanded.

Malfoy's eyes narrowed in annoyance, "You're pathetic Granger. I give you an answer and you don't even have the decency to listen. You had better wise up if you're going to pull this off."

Hermione's heart jumped against her chest. He hadn't given her a direct answer but he given something very close.

"Does that mean you will help me?"

"Lets get something straight first Granger. I'm only helping you for something to pass time, to have complete and utter superiority over you and to have a good laugh at your expense," replied Malfoy.

'_They aren't the best reasons but I'll take anything I can get_,' reasoned Hermione.

"And there's one more thing. I will only help you that on the condition if something goes completely wrong with either the Ministry or the Death Eaters you will deny my involvement at all costs- your life included. I also maintain that if you _ever _insist on dragging me too far under than I will deal with you myself," declared Malfoy.

Hermione thought for a second but could detect no implication to her plan with this agreement. She nodded and stuck out her hand. A sign to both of them this was a partnership and their hatred for each would have to turned down or at least in public.

Malfoy grasped Hermione's thin hand firmly and placed a knowing smirk on his face.

_This is going to be fun. One way or the other_, reflected Malfoy.

Hermione saw the smirk and evil glint and, only for a second, doubt flickered in her mind, '_What on Earth have I got myself into. This is Malfoy we are talking about! But I have no other option. At the risk of sounding cliché, there is no turning back now.' _


	4. House Rules and Pink Potions

**Chapter 4**

**House Rules and Pink Potions**

Hermione couldn't believe what was happening. She was sitting on the edge of a queen size bed in one of the guest rooms of _the_ Malfoy Manor. Next to her lay a gigantic book labelled The Supreme Rules of the Malfoy Dynasty: To break is to defy, to defy is to die by Lord Radiffcular Malfoy Just the look of the book alone nearly caused Hermione to throw it as far as she could across the room. Draco Malfoy had then smugly gone to say that the family motto had changed after Radiffular had broken a rule in his later years and was a little disagreeable about putting a death notice on his own head. It was Hermione's job to learn the basic of these rules, so as not to conquer the latest of Malfoy family punishments. She would have liked to have pointed out that since she was not a Malfoy these rules did not apply to her but she was in no position to argue with the person who was helping her, in his own _fantastic _way.

Draco Malfoy was, at that moment, down stairs calling his mother about the invitation of a "new friend". Narcissa Malfoy would be returning from Florence in two days to check on her son and would probably be quite anxious to meet her son's new lady friend.

"No mother… yes mother. Of course I will see to it. Yes, she is quite pretty," replied Draco. '_Or at least she better be', _he thought.

Hermione was having similar thoughts. The Dissimulo potion sat on the bed side table, giving off a faint pink glow. That was just one of the things that needed to be taken care of. When Malfoy finished his conversation with his mother they would have to create an identity and then there was the small matter of Wimmbie the house elf, who had heard the entire conversation. Every muscle in Hermione's body screamed in protest about having to cause pain to an innocent creature, especially a house elf. But she knew if she couldn't overcome this hurdle she was as good as dead. Death Eaters probably didn't bat an eye lid when putting a memory charm on a human, much less an insignificant house elf. If need be she would do it herself. After all she still needed to prove to the Malfoy brat that she had a far superior grasp of the dark arts and Hermione never backed down from a challenge, no matter what it was (especially when she had the chance to show Draco Malfoy up).

Her eyes wandered over to the table, they stared absentmindedly at the bottle of potion. In her mind Hermione recalled everything she had read about the potion, making sure it was down to perfection:

_-another famous potion used by many witches and wizards for disguise purposes is the Dissimulo Potion. This is probably the nearest to perfection one of the three for it is unchangeable, undetectable and will not wear off unless an unforced command is issued from the drinker. However the potion was outlawed 784 years ago by the Ministry, who found its use made catching criminals and other wanted personals extremely difficult. The Dissimulo Potion, for all its advantages is also probably one of the hardest potions known to the wizarding world. Hundreds of witches and wizards, who succumbed to its charms fell prey to the issues associated with an incorrectly brewed potion. Drew Lumburry found he could not change back after altering his identity to that of a woman in order to avoid Ministry prosecution. Another is Mary Goldberigh who found, even after issuing the command the potion took seventeen years to wear off. Unfortunately she had transformed herself into an eighty year old hunch back. In order to brew the potion-_

Hermione had to agree the potion wasn't at your normal OWLS level (or even NEWTS for that matter), it had taken her 2 months to brew the first stage of the potion and she had risked life and limb to secure the obscure ingredients. But she had done everything to the exact point and the potion appeared nearly perfect in colour and consistency. She only hoped it worked.

"Here goes nothing," she muttered while reaching over for the bottle. Hermione cleared her mind and in one swift motion tore the lid off the bottle and drained the contents. It tasted sickly sweet, much like the muggle strawberry medicine. Hermione gagged and only restrained her self from spitting it out at the last moment. She braced herself and swallowed. In one gulp the liquid disappeared from her mouth, along with the horrible taste.

As if on cue Draco Malfoy walked into the room. He took one look at the empty bottle and Hermione failing to hide her distaste and smirked, "Okay Granger, Mother is arriving in the two days and we are going sort out a few things now. For one, I told her you are an old girl from the Frence academy, whom I met in our fourth year. This means you _have to _polish up on your French. The Malfoy family is quite adapt in many languages. You have no luggage because on your arrival it was stolen. Your adopted parents were wealthy pure-bloods but they unfortunately died in an accident in your seventh year- your family wealth can make up for your blood." Malfoy paused significantly, "As a warning Granger many alarms or traps in this house are set of by the detection of foreign blood, or muggle blood. So if you do not wish to have your body impaled on a pointy object then do not wander around aimlessly or go beyond the rooms I specify, unless my person accompanies you."

Hermione, miffed at Malfoy's insults to her blood, would have liked nothing better to retort with a snide remark but she knew a genuine warning when she heard one.

"Make up what ever you want to on your family- as long as you stick to the same story. As for an aptitude in Dark Arts- perhaps you could try and convince the widdle Death Eaters you just did it for fun? Think up something decent and let me know before Mother arrives. The only thing I believe that is left if your name." Malfoy glanced around the room while counting off each aspect on his fingers to make sure he had remembered everything. An obvious deliberate practice since Hermione was quite assured in his unfortunately long memory.

'_When did I get so good at noticing body language'_ Hermione wondered. The dark shadows in her mind whispered the answer but she squashed them ruthlessly before they resurfaced.

"It would seem you have practically everything covered Malfoy, almost like you have been planning this," smirked Hermione. The wanted effect was lost however when she started to smile.

"Just what the hell do you think you are implying Granger?" growled Malfoy softly.

Hermione burst out laughing, she couldn't help it. Since she took the potion her mind had been going haywire and she was finding the situation incredibly funny.

Through gasps of breath Hermione managed to shoot back, "It was a joke Malfoy… you might to use one once in a while."

Malfoy's scowl only deepened. The girl was obviously more in a wrong state of mind that usual, yet she still had the audacity to insult him.

But suddenly, like a switched being turned off Hermione lost all urges to giggle and laugh hysterically. Instead the seriousness of the situation hit her and she contemplated Malfoy words. They were very similar to her own plan she had thought out, even including her becoming French. This suited her nicely; she had taken French classes during her stays at home. This was a suggestion from her parents so she could keep even a little "muggleness" in her (unfortunately it didn't work when Hermione learned of spells to help with learning of languages).

The only part that really worried her was her appearance and the need to maintain a perfect persona at all times. Then there was the fact that she would need to buy new clothes and being of wealthy heritage meant the cheap option certainly wasn't the right thing to do. Hermione could only imagine the cost of full, new wardrobe by shopping at the Malfoy's favourite stores or the horror if she brought a designer fake. It would probably deplete her Gringotts account to a few measly knuts. Perhaps she could make a great impression of Narcissa Malfoy in the hope that she would offer, or order to son to pay for the expenses. The thought of Malfoy taking her shopping for the clothes of her wildest dreams made Hermione almost grin in satisfaction: if Malfoy was going to take his problems out on her continually she may as well take every chance she gets to get her own back.

"My name…my name will be Joanna Vioget or just Anna for short. I'm also quite happy with the rest of your alias. It was nearly identical to the one I had been planning to use," said Hermione.

"Good to know you recognise a good cover when you see it. But we need to get one or two last things straightened out: how to you act around my mother. She is an extremely high-profile, dignified and powerful lady and thus you will treat her like one. You will show enormous respect, you will not mention the use of any of the dark arts unless the subject is given directly to you. You will be polite and courteous towards her and you must treat me as an equal. As much as that pains me it would seem odd if you were polite to my mother and rude to me. You will also be charming, witty and talkative, but only when spoken to or you have something that is extremely worthwhile to say. You will place complements at any opportunity for either myself or mother but do not over do it. You will treat other house-hold staff as invisible and not worth your glance and you will not leave unless you excuse yourself and are given permission to leave. Most importantly you will not mention my father, any other Death Eaters and if Potter should come up in conversation you will act like you don't know him at all and that you just believe all the criticism you read in the paper. Breakfast will be at eight in the morning. I will send Wimmbie to pick you up and escort you at 7:55 and you must not be late. When you enter the room you will walk over to Mother and I will introduce you, you will then say good morning and sit in your allocated spot. Speaking of Wimmbie, she has been taken care of so not slip ups Granger. I think that does it and if you would excuse me, I'm going to bed. I suggest you do to. Oh and Granger. I don't except you to look at all like you've crawled out from a Hutwiggle's burrow in the morning: much like you do now. Good night," with that Malfoy turned sharply on his heel and left the room, closing the door smartly behind him.

Hermione remained sitting thoughtfully on her bed. She had taken all of Malfoy's rules in thoughtfully but none of them were different from her better judgement. She would just need to be careful with what she said, especially when it came to Harry. As Hermione sat there thoughtfully she got a sudden and unexpected insight to one aspect to the life of Draco Malfoy. If this rules applied to a welcomed guest, who would only receive a sharp word or disapproving glance, what on earth was life like for the son of one of the worst death eaters? Hermione shook her head, she decided it wasn't any of her business and it wasn't a topic to dwell on. Nevertheless, she felt a sudden pang of sympathy for the blonde boy.

Horrified and what she just felt Hermione quickly squashed the feeling and reminded her self that the git probably deserved it.

"Damn it," she muttered "I forgot to ask Malfoy for some clothes." Sighing Hermione got off the bed and went searching around the room. But just before she was about to pulling out draws a small knock sounded at the door and the house elf Wimmbie entered, desperately trying to carry a large bundle of clothes.

'_Poor thing'_, sympathised Hermione. She took a step to help the creature but swiftly stopped herself. From this point on she wasn't Hermione Granger any more, she was Joanna Vioget and Joanna wouldn't stop to help a measly house elf. The house elf protection would need to be well and truly forgotten. Hermione waited patiently while the house elf moved around the room placing clothes in various draws and hanging items in the cupboard.

"Begging your pardon Miss Vioget, Master Malfoy sends these clothes with his compliments and his sincerest apologise about the misfortunate of your theft. He hopes these garments will satisfy you until the time when your stolen attire can be properly replaced," Wimmbie said politely and courteously. He then departed with a small pop without waiting for an answer.

Hermione bit back a laugh: she doubted very much is Malfoy sent any of those things with his compliments but it would prove an interesting experiment to see what he thought she should wear. All her borders for clothing would need to be thrown out the window because judging by the Slytherin girl's wardrobe she wasn't going to be covering up with jumpers and shoals.

She was quite pleasantly surprised however. In the first draw she found a variety of lingerie, all of which looked as if it should be worn by a blonde supermodel or not covered up at all. In the second she found a beautiful silk nightie, which fit like a glove. Hermione sighed as the luxurious material rubbed against her skin.

At school she had never been one of the fashion conscious girls because she saw no point. But when she returned home she loved to go shopping and always made sure she wore clothes that suited her well. It had been an interesting clash and only Ginny had known there was a fashion conscious girl under the bookworm. On the other hand the two boys had barely given what she wore a second glance so what was the point?

All other clothes could wait until the morning. So with that Hermione slipped beneath the emerald (she noted drly) sheets and soon fell into a dreamless sleep.

No one saw the empty Dissimulo bottle glow pink in the dark and slowly fade away. No one noticed as Hermione Granger slowly started to change and literally fade away.


	5. Stories Untold

_AN: Well here is brief explanation of what happened- something I know a lot of you have been wondering. I'm not particularly happy with how well thisis written as I was trying to write a story how someone would tell it, trying not to give anything major away and the whole making it up as I went along. Enjoy despite that! Oh, I'll also be away for the next week or so- so no updates until I get back and I'll just leave you to chew on this:D_

**Chapter 5:**

**Stories Untold**

Across the other side of town another plan was being formatted. Five people sat around a grand oak table, all grimfaced and thoughtful: two had bright red hair and freckles, sitting next to them sat a boy with messy black hair, emerald eyes. Opposite him sat an old man with a long grey beard and half-moon spectacles while at the head of the table a wizard with short brown hair and a ragged cloak stood looking over a file of photos and documents.

The grey bearded wizard stood up slowly, "Harry, Ron and Ginny this is Sam Brown: the one heading the investigation."

Sam cleared his throat and turned to the old wizard, "Thank you Albus. Now I'm sorry to have called you all here on such short notice but I believe you may have some information to the whereabouts of the renegade witch Ms Hermione Granger. We are quite certain-"

"This is just so stupid! I don't know why we are here- again! We are talking about Hermione here," Ginny turned accusingly to her brother and Harry, "This is your best friend. How can you possibly be supporting this man hunt for her life? This is the same the girl that stood by your sides for seven years. To say Hermione attacked Harry, it's preposterous and obviously a set up!"

The room remained eerily silent for neither of boys could meet the young girl's fiery eyes: her words rang too true- pointless it was to admit so now.

Ron grabbed his sister's shoulder and just shook his head; an indication it was hopeless, "Just leave it Gin. The evidence-"

Ginny cut abruptly in again, "I don't give a damn about that evidence! Someone could have easily have fixed it. This is Hermione and Harry we are talking about! Someone could played with her mind, altered her wand, taken a Polyjuice potion…something!"

Sam Brown cleared his throat again, "I'm apologise Miss Weasley, I understand this topic is fairly upsetting. But however it remains that there is no way anyone could have swapped or cursed Miss Granger: Mr Potter's story clarifies that and I have taken a statement both Mr Weasley and Mr Potter specifying that Miss Granger could break an Imperius Curse. I believe the unethical practice was a standard procedure for your fourth year Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. The evidence is quite supportive and due to her…um…connections… we took the extra precaution for following up any suitable ways that may prove her innocent: we only came to dead ends. It could have only been Ms Granger that attacked Mr Potter. She has obviously changed- as many of us do over time. But what I do need from you three and perhaps Albus, is any information into her whereabouts you may have. And I would like to request Mr Potter to retell his story so that any doubts can now be extinguished."

Harry, after briefly glancing at Dumbledore, nodded his head in agreement. This is had been a trying week and the quicker this was over the faster they could all return to the Weasley's home.

After a thoughtful silence Ron spoke up, "I think I speak for all of us when I say that Hermione is smart and is not likely to be found if she doesn't want to. But personally I would have no idea to her whereabouts. I guess, like the rest of us, I thought I knew her. If there is one thing I can say is that Hermione, if she didn't do it, is likely to trying to prove her innocence. There is no way she would just sit by and let this happen. But if she did do it I don't know what she would be trying to do. I mean, we are all asking: what was her point? If she had been thinking about it for a while why didn't she try when her and Harry were alone other times? There were probably plenty of opportunities."

"If I may interrupt Mr Weasley… I believe if this was a pre-empted plan that the reason it could not take place at any other time is because of the protection spells that surround Mr Potter. For obvious reasons only few have knowledge of this type of magic: Harry himself was only told after your graduation. Hogwarts remains the safest place for Harry but outside, different environments offer different forms of protection.

For Harry to be attacked in the magic's blind spot is something quite coincidental wouldn't you think?" Dumbledore said, "But I must also stress that we try and view what happened with an open and untainted mind. There are far too many "what ifs" to be concerned about."

"Albus, I know you prefer to see the better in people and I respect your judgement but perhaps in this case it is misdirected?" asked Sam.

Dumbledore slowly raised a greyed eyebrow and stared down his half moon spectacles but chose to remain silent.

Sam Brown turned to the three teenagers and continued on when he realised Dumbledore was not going to argue, "Now, since none you of have any other information to give the ministry there are just a few other points we need to cover before Harry can retell his story. The reason we are here is that we need you to be on your guard. If Ms Granger is willing enough to attack her best friend there is no telling what she will do to a stranger or someone who gets in her way. Firstly, we have uncovered that Ms Granger is an unregistered animagus, thus why she was able to escape our holding cell. Her animal form however is unknown. We are merely asking you to be on guard for anything unusual."

"A bird…," muttered Ginny. Everyone's eyes turned towards her.

"I'm sorry what was that Miss Weasley?" probed Sam, whose hands which had been shitting through papers stopped suddenly.

"She's a bird… I mean her form would be a bird: mostly likely a predator of some sort," remarked Ginny. She hadn't realised initially where her thought process would lead and she immediately regretted speaking out. Ginny believed Hermione was innocent and she had promised she wouldn't let the Ministry get to her before she had the chance to hear for herself what happened. It was only fair that Hermione got to tell her own story to those who would listen. The only problem was the Hermione was number six on the Ministry's most wanted list and these days she was barely able to leave the house, let alone go looking for her "murderous" friend.

"Thank you Miss Weasley. I believe-," Sam ruffled through some papers and briefly glanced over a few, "that helps us out. It narrows down our search area and also fills in one of our missing points. Now Mr Potter, I've covered all the extra things I need to say to you all. So if you would please be so kind as to retell your story in order to eliminate any without standing doubts."

Ginny narrowed her eyes at the deliberate jib into her 'mislead' loyalty.

Harry, who hadn't been paying attention looked up surprised. He steadied himself and took a deep breath to retell the story that had been and would be told many more times, "I had been staying at the Weasley's since graduation and hadn't seen Hermione since then. We had all received letters from her and we all corresponded regularly but she was never able to come to any of the meetings we suggested. I thought that she was just being herself and locking herself at home to study for whatever job she was planning for. She sounded happy and eager in her letters. But then she stopped replying and we would only hear from her once a month or so. I started to get worried about her and everyone decided we needed to demand a meeting with her. She never showed up. But her letters became regular again and she apologised, saying that she had become too absorbed in a book, hadn't been eating and so she wasn't just didn't find the time.

The three of us then decided we would pay Hermione an unexpected visit but when we arrived her parents said she had left weeks ago and they didn't know where exactly she was. The last letter we sent had been roughly three… or maybe two weeks before so it must have been delivered to that address. Ginny had a look in her room to try and find something but it was spotless. Right, Gin?"

Ginny nodded sadly, "All I found was a pile of old school books, bits of parchments with dates, people and some odd spells on them. Otherwise the room was completely spotless- her bed didn't look like it had been used in months! Except there was one odd thing: so small I hardly think it matters. There was a photo of her class on her desk: all the seventh year Gryffindors. Everyone in the photo was moving in and out, talking and laughing except the Hermione in the picture was completely still, like the muggle photos. I poked her and she still wouldn't move. Really, they shouldn't ever stop moving- even after… well, death"

Sam's eyes looked sad as he gazed at the three teenagers. His colleagues had told him it would be a sensitive case but he had just brushed it off too easily. What this case really needed was someone willingly to be pulled down by all the emotional and conspiracy baggage.

"A raid of her residence uncovered a mastery novel on the Dark Arts: extremely rare even to those that know of its existence. It is certainly not a book to be taken lightly or to be found in the possession of a child. Also found were detailed theory notes on _Nexus_" expanded Sam.

Harry threw a questioning glance at Dumbledore, "Nexus traditionally means links doesn't it?"

"In this case, Mr Potter, _Nexus _refers to the theory of both Chaos, Evil and Darkness residing in the human heart, with a connected relationship to its opposing force; Peace, Right and Light. When one force over powers the other it results in a change to one's magic. It is generally only a theoretical concept. While not part of the Dark Arts it is certainly a strange topic for Ms Granger to be studying following her schooling graduation," chimed in Sam.

"Then why would she leave these things behind if she was intending to kill Harry? She wouldn't let herself get caught on purpose…" posed Ginny.

"Hurt, Miss Weasley. Part of the prophecy still stand true as Mr Potter can't be killed be… ordinary means," Sam corrected. "Perhaps she got lazy," Sam continued, after giving his throat a good clearing.

"No, that's not Hermione. She has never once been lazy! She never kept still unless she was out cold in the Hospital wing," Ginny raved. "

"I don't even understand how she would come across such a book, perhaps it was planted?" ventured Ron, in order to calm his fuming sister. When he had first heard of the attack he had been addiment that Hermione was innocent and that Harry had made a mistake (albeit a rather large one) but as the investigation deepened there were just too many unexplained and suspicious circumstances. If Hermione had hurt Harry using dark magic she deserved to be locked up in Azkaban but that didn't mean she was never his friend.

"Sorry Mr Weasley, but her room was later given a dark magic scan: the poor wizard was hospitalised afterwards. The Ministry is unable to pick up Dark Magic unless it is actually practiced. There is no method to police the hypothetical studying of it. As to how she came to be in the possession of the book… well, that is unknown and will likely remain so unless she is apprehended. I'm sure Ms Granger was smart enough not to open any suspicious looking packages," said Sam.

Harry and Ron exchanged a glance. They knew how cautious Hermione was. Harry remembered he had been so angry at her during the 'Firebolt Incident'. But looking back now he realised she was only looking out for him and when she needed someone to look over her they had just abandoned her in the hope she would work things out herself. Perhaps if they had seen her sooner this might not have happened. Harry sighed, his heart was torn too ways: one way with his stubborn belief in his friend's innocence and the other with the determination to see that the fiend that attacked him was locked up forever in Azkaban. The night was still fresh in his mind and it was physically painful to believe that their favourite fiery tempered, book-wormish, worrying Hermione was capable of hurting anything.

"Mr Potter, if you would please," injected Sam.

Harry looked up through his lashes and messy hair, too drained to bother raising his head, "Gin came back down the stairs. We just left soon after thinking there was nothing left to find.

A few days after that Hermione appeared on our doorstep. It was like we woke up one morning and she was there- waiting at the door to be let in. Literally."  
Harry paused; he could never explain properly how he felt about what happened next. "It's just hard to explain because I didn't know if it was just me…" Harry started.

A shift of long red hair made him stop, "It wasn't just you Harry. I would galance at her and I couldn't pinpoint what was different. She'd smile and I would actually, for a second, not know who the girl in front of me was. Then at other times she would herself, completely and utterly Hermione Granger to her core."

Dejectedly, the two boys nodded in agreement. Wracked with guilt each recognised the subtle differences but had not been able to voice them. If they had…maybe…

"It's like Ginny said. Hermione turned up and we tried pressing her about where she had gone but every time we tried she would just change the subject. When we actually demanded it of her she got so angry- she screamed at us that it wasn't our issue to deal with and never to bring it up again. I was just happy that she was safe. We didn't suspect anything- she was our best friend so whatever she didn't tell us was for our own good. But then… then the screaming started. We-"

"I'm sorry to interrupt again Mr Potter- screaming?" asked Sam. That certainly had not been in his files- how could something so obviously bizarre been missed? '_The Ministry is getting slack… again,_' he dryly noted.

Dumbledore then turned his penetrating gaze onto the Ministry official, "You were uninformed of this Sam?"

Sam nodded thoughtfully, "Human error stipulates that something was bound to be missed. Although, I agree that something quite insignificant-"

"It wasn't _insignificant _if you were there- hearing her scream," everyone turned to watch as the small frame of Ginny Weasley shook heartbreakingly. "I woke up one night to the most horrible sound I'd ever heard… it sounded worse then death. But the moment I sat up and glanced at Hermione it died and I thought I was imagining things. To my ears it sounded like everyone else was still asleep. I thought I was dreaming it- I've woken to screaming before. But then I woke again, hearing it so clearly and after that Harry and Ron burst in. We'd all heard it this time yet… it just wasn't… human."

Ginny's eye stung and she tried to rub the tears from them.

Ron placed his arm around his sister and she silently cried into his shoulder. Their best friend had been hurting and they couldn't… didn't do anything to help her. Now it was too late.

Sam shared a saddened glance with the Hogwarts Headmaster. Perhaps this meeting had not been a good idea.

"Harry, could you please continue. I understand if you are unwillingly but it may be more advisable, in case there are any other gaps in the report," Dumbledore calmly stated. Looking at the wise professor, Sam got the distinct impression he was being mocked.

Harry, after a quick glance at Ginny's distress, quickly decided to spare the small details and finish it up quickly, "So, when the screaming started we knew something was wrong and we kept trying to get her to tell us what was wrong. But then she would leave for hours on end, and then days and eventually I woke up in the middle of the night, hearing her leave. I raced down to try and stop her but she just told she was going and that was the end of it. As she was heading out the door she stopped and asked if I wanted to come, only if I truly thought I could help her. It was Hermione… so I followed her without any thought of deception. We got on the Knight Bus and got off on some random stop.

I got worried when she walked down a dark alley. She didn't even get her wand out for light so I reached for mine and muttered _Lumos _to get some light. My eyes adjusted and there was Hermione, standing right in front of me- her wand directly pointed at my heart. The curses started from there.

I had no idea what she was firing at me but felt it dark and it was powerful. Everything she shot at me had a black light so I couldn't see it. I tried is disarm her but she just flicked the spell away. I tried yelling at her but she stood there blankly and kept firing. I couldn't even hear her casting. I started to get the idea that this wasn't Hermione so I fought back and fired one at her. One cut her along her shoulder and she paused and just crumpled to the ground. All the Ministry turned up then and grabbed her."  
"What were the results of the curses-" requested Sam before being sharply cut off.

"That is irrelevant Sam. There is clear evidence to support the use of sixth level Dark Magic- it is in no way beneficial for Harry to repeat himself," Dumbledore affirmed.

Harry sighed mentally in relief- the memory of the curse effects were not pleasant.

Dumbledore then turned to the inquiring looks. "In the Dark Arts there are levels corresponding the power and skill of curses- much like you would find in Charms or Transfiguration. There are seven levels in all with seven being the most deadly. The Unforgivable Curses are only a few of spells related to this last category."  
"Hermione can't use Dark Arts that high! You... she would have to have a direct intention to harm. She couldn't do that to Harry. Right, Headmaster?" Ginny injected.

"My sincerest apologies Miss Weasley but I can not vouch for the current state of Ms Granger. Harry is assured in his statements, as am I. The situation is extremely regrettable but we will try to find an appropriate avenue to persue. Now if you three would please exit through the doors I will meet you outside. First. I need to speak to Sam," said Dumbledore.

Seeing the evident protest Ron pulled Ginny up and quickly strode out of the room with her in tow. Harry followed a moment later after a quick glance at the Hogwarts Headmaster.

As the doors clicked closed Dumbledore turned the full force of his faze upon the Aurora, "This was unnecessary, Sam."

"I know Albus but it is protocol. With a case this sensitive there is nothing much we can do. For his own safety I strongly suggest Mr Potter stays away from this case and, evidently, Ms Granger," Sam replied unfazed.

"You have a primary cause?"

"Of course- we are not entirely as unproductive as the media presents us to be. It was impossible that Mr Potter would have died from the attack. The prophecy still stands despite the time limit, as you know. Despite this, the charges are still serious. I can tell you it wasn't easy trying to convince my colleagues of her existence in order to gain a reprieve. They are addiment there is no such creature," argued Sam.

Dumbledore raised a questioning eyebrow, "They would deny what lies directly in front of them?"

"To them it is… undesirable to believe that one can hold such power. It means admitting their own inferiority to a force that can neither be restrained nor explained. After all, they are exceptionally rare Albus. You of all people should this," Sam replied.

Dumbledore stood silent for a moment, "This does not go past ourselves Sam. Unfortunately we cannot prevent everyone's opinion on the case. But we can give Ms Granger a chance to choose the right side."

"You truly believe she can choose a side now, Albus? Even after _his _interference?" Sam asked, disbelief creeping into his voice.

The Headmaster smiled, "We are all born in darkness, my friend. Ms Granger is merely yet to find the light.

With that Albus Dumbledore swept from the room, leaving behind a very bewildered Sam Brown.


	6. Loss of the Bookworm

_AN: First off- thanks to everyone who gave me fantastic comments while I was away. I absolutely loved reading them when I got back. Surprisingly I did A LOT of writing during my break. I was going to concentrate another story but Hermione and Draco stuck in my head the whole time and I had to get them down. I write cause even now I'm not sure quite what's going to happen- I leave it up to the characters. In my very messy scrawl I managed to get down… 18 pages! That's the most I've ever written in one go. Please keep up the enthusiasm and reading!_

_As a note please excuse my terrible French! I had to resort to using an online translator since my knowledge of the language doesn't extend to the type of phrases they use. Don't worry though- I put the English beneath it._

_**Please let me know whether you prefer spacing or no spacing.**_

_Song lyrics Hermione sings: Where I stood by Missy Higgins_

**Chapter 6:**

**Loss of the Bookworm**

Hermione woke that night from sneezes ricocheting through her body. In the back of her mind she wondered who could possibly be gossiping about her. Then again, she didn't want to know and turned back over under the sheets.

oOo

"I don't know what I've done or if I like what've I've begun. But something told me to run…" Hermione sang softly as she swept around the room preparing for the day.

A black steel mirror hung on the opposite wall, glinting in the sun's rays. But Hermione stubbornly avoided the object like the plague or bad poetry.

The face that looked back her in the polished surface would not be her own and that sent tiny chills of alarm through her body. It was one thing Hermione knew, to loose your friends and family but quite another to loose yourself. She had wrestled with this issue continually after discovering the potion's existence and undeniably it was the safest option to avoid being caught.

'_If I look in the mirror I want to see… what?' _Hermione wondered. But as she stared at the mirror from the corner of her eye she knew the answer. _'I want to see someone strong enough to fight- to win because its right. Someone who won't give in… someone they will fear. Respect. I just _need _to be someone who can get to the other side. I will deal with anything else after I'm free.'_

Still sending glares at the unresponsive mirror Hermione rubbed her temples. She could feel the familiar sensation of an impending headache.

She had been up at the crack of dawn, awoken the second light seeped through the curtains. Looking for something to occupy her mind she had showered and changed but had then lost track of opportunities when anything else involved a reflective surface. As she searched the extensive 'on loan' wardrobe she came across multitudes of gorgeous, stunning and designer outfits. A little unsure Hermione had gone for a safe option; choosing a pair of fitting jeans and black halter top. Shoes proved to be more of an issue. Thankfully she had found a pair of small black ballet slippers that fit. Anything else involved a heel beyond human capacity.

Throughout the centuries items of fashion have impaired the women of the time. Hermione could list just a few, with the high heel being the last, erotic invention. Now, with clear certainty, she was going to be subject to that "pleasing guise" at the price of her already abused feet. Closing the door to the mini shoe shop Hermione sent an apology to feet in advance.

"Typical masochistic perverts," Hermione grudgingly muttered after taking a look at some of the more elaborate pieces of clothing. Consequently they were made of far less fabric.

When she had got of bed Hermione had vainly conceded that she, at the least, seemed to be far taller then before. In addition the snug nightgown from the previous night now was too tight.

Sitting on her bed with nothing better to do, her mind wandered to the clothes she wore the last night and, if truth be told, for the last week. She distinctly hoped they been dosed with petrol and then set alight. The ashes could be feed to the fish in the deepest part of the ocean. Maybe said fish could end up on Malfoy's dinner plate and poison him to death. The notion entertained her greatly.

Sneaking a glance at the clock Hermione had ten minutes before Malfoy specified breakfast. In response her stomach grumbled. Loudly. It had been a long time since she had had any kind of decent food.

Now decidedly and stubbornly angry at herself for being obstinate (a useless position to find one's self in) Hermione rose from the bed and moved towards the ebony mirror.

After all, she argued, she would be damned if Malfoy got an opinion in before she did.

With a last undignified stomp Hermione stepped in front of the mirror and pried open her eyes.

'_Thank God, I'm not a troll,' _was Hermione's first enlightened thought, followed by a rather large string of profanities. The Weasley twins plus Ron would have been proud.

Her shorter, curvier stature had been replaced with a longer figure and subtle curves. The once famously agonising, bushy hair had grown to her mid back. Darker (verging on black) it was amazingly straight and cut simply: layered to keep volume but thin enough not to be heavy with a fringe.

Happy, as Hermione twisted in the mirror she noted that her face still retained its heart-shape. However, it was slightly longer with higher cheekbones and prominent eyes. As she inched towards the mirror she shockingly glimpsed that even her eye colour had changed. The once warm brown had darkened to seal brown, so dark it almost merged with the black void of her pupil. She blinked once to clear her eyes and focused. Dimly in her eyes she could make out thin streaks and veins of an emerald green.

'_They are almost Harry's shade,' _she commented. With a sudden intake of breath Hermione found it had to breathe. Her chest was wrapped itself around her heart, constricting it. The sensation grew until she physical reacted: shuddering and shutting her eyes tight, willing the pain away. The black abyss near her heart ripped open, in response, as the jagged edges of the hole tore at her. Tears squeezed out of her eyes and she wrapped her arms around herself- trying to hold everything together before she fell apart. As she wrenched her eyes away from the mirror the pain faded, leaving her weak and shaking.

It would not do well to dwell on the past.

She was truly alone now. More than anything in the world she wanted to find the embrace of her friends and to hear that it was okay. She didn't want to hear that her life lay on a knife-edge. She just wanted to feel safety from the people she didn't betray- she could never hurt. If she allowed herself to dwell the pain would consume her- ripping holes in her soul like Swiss cheese.

_You want this…_

_Without light the darkness cannot exist…_

_YOU' RE NOT MY FRIEND…_

Wrapped up in the disjointed voices something caught Hermione's eye. In the mirror her reflection was staring smugly at her, hands resting lighting on her… no, its hips. There was a definite gleam of approval in the dark eyes.

"Very nice," it approved in a perfect mimic of Hermione's smooth tone, "It suits you- dark but still… you. It would look so much better if you gave up the little light crusade you got going, though. On the other hand Master Malfoy will be very pleased."

The real Hermione's eyes narrowed in disgust. She had no inclination to gain Malfoy's approval nor did she sanction the insinuation she would look better evil.

"Shut up," Hermione growled as she turned on her heel and strode back over to an elaborate dresser, on the other side of the room.

"Dark indeed," the reflection chuckled.

Still slightly agitated Hermione plonked herself down in front of a different mirror this time. One that would stay quiet or be on the receiving end of a flying… whatever she could find that was heavy enough to cause series damage.

Now she had to wait until the pig head downstairs had the courtesy to fetch her. The dependency was irking her- only seeking to fuel her temper. Taking out her foul mood on something stronger than glass was looking very appealing.

Eight o'clock came and went.

The clock on the wall ticked over quarter past eight. Hermione was very nearly ready to break her word and step out of the room at her own risk. If not, the black mirror in the corner (which had been whispering the whole time) was going to be taken down a peg…or three.

Fortunately for the mirror Wimbie appeared at the door. The house elf was thoroughly used to approaching rooms that just excluded dangerous messages. However, it had not expected such a threatening aura from Young Master Malfoy's new guest. The door may as well have "Test me and I'll curse you into next week" engraved in the wood. He knocked politely and the door was thrust open to reveal a very peeved young lady, who grinned welcomely in a very convincing manner. He wasn't fooled. Wimbie, additionally, could help but notice that the _young lady _was looking distinctly different to the night before. He had survived many years with the aristocratic family- quite aware of some of the more unscrupulous dealings. No doubt her reasons were her own.

Bowing low in respect Wimbie's tone was light, "Good morning Ms Vioget. Young Master Malfoy sends his apologies for the late call. After your terrible ordeal yesterday he thought you might enjoy the rest."

As he turned, indicating she should follow Wimbie's mask slipped slightly. Something flashed in his eyes that caused Hermione's anger to fade and step to falter.

'_Damn,' _she thought, chastising herself, _'I forgot all about the house elf. He saw me last night and obviously noticed a few _minor _changes. God damn… this means we will have to alter the poor thing's memory again. I don't have a wand, so I can't do it. I'll have to mention it Malfoy- no doubt he won't care.'_

Following the elf Hermione was able to finally take a decent appraisal of the Manor. She had taken no notice the previous night- too strung up and concerned with looking for a soft bed.

Most of the Manor consisted of stone or dark wood panel. Dark curtains restricted most of the light, creating growing shadows. The green carpet was soft under foot, the wood floors polished to perfection. Hermione couldn't help but roll here eyes at the constant and distinct colour scheme. The décor was so, Slytherin. Multitudes of greens, blacks and silvers graced every corridor or room she could see. However, Hermione was unable to see more than the corridors she travelled allowed her to. Most of the cedar doors remained firmly closed and she did not pause to ponder their contents.

They reached the main, sprawling staircase that descended into a large hall, roughly the size of the Great Hall at Hogwarts. Various doors lay scattered around the edges and Wimbie led Hermione to the only one ajar.

The dining room was similar to the entrance hall. Paying homage to the magnificent views of a crafted garden verging on a wild forest, large glass windows adorned two of the great walls. Unlike the shadowy corridors light flooded into the room. A grand polished, mahogany table took up the center of the room accompanied by two chairs at the heads and five smaller chairs on each of the longer sides.

Hermione easily picked out the blood head of Malfoy, sitting languidly in one of the center chairs with his back to her.

"Young Master Malfoy," Wimbie squeaked.

Malfoy gave no indication he had heard the elf but, regardless, Wimbie lead Hermione the table to take a seat opposite.

As she took her seat Hermione's new hair fell about her face. Unconsciously she brought a hand up to pin it behind her ear when she caught Malfoy staring at her in barely concealed shock.

So she had broken through his stoic mask? Good, at least now she knew his was human… to an extent.

Staring back into his stormy eyes Hermione swear she saw something stir in the depths. It felt like shock but there was something else driving it: unlike the obvious source of the expression gracing his face. He blinked, the clouds gathered in his eyes faded and Hermione wondered if she had even seen such a thing.

Feeling the blush rise steadily to her cheeks at his intense gaze Hermione ground out, "Well?"

The mirrors comments from this morning were still ringing in her mind. She swore to god that if he said anything indecent she might not be able to willingly stop herself from strangling him. Screw not having a wand.

She was spared from such gruesome action when Malfoy's face instantly shifted to bland disinterest, "I'm glad found something appropriate to wear." He then calmly went back to eating his breakfast.

Hermione felt her temper flare. He hadn't insulted her but since the charade technically didn't start until tomorrow the brat could at least provide an opinion.

'_Would it kill him to complement me?" _she thought. Hermione nearly laughed out loud for even asking that of herself, _'Yes, yes it would,' _she answered.

Then again, Hermione countered, if he wasn't admonishing her there couldn't be too much wrong. Malfoy, was nothing if not predictable about voicing his opinion.

"Does it meet with Malfoy standards?" Hermione sneered. She wasn't quite ready to give up her foul mood just yet- it had been too long since she had allowed herself the luxury of being angry at anyone but herself.

Malfoy, who had been pondering that very train of thought over a piece of bacon raised his head at her tone. Someone had not gotten up on the right side of the bed this morning. Nevertheless it would no harm if he riled her up further (after all she didn't possess a wand).

Slowly and deliberately he dragged his eyes over her new form. The blush on her cheeks was deepening but it was no concern of his where her mind wandered. The hair, thankfully, was the greatest improvement; drastic steps would have been taken if the bush on her head had not changed drastically. It was her face that he was having difficulty with.

When she had first sat down Draco blinked to find himself staring at the same girl. Unchanged. Blinking rapidly, she had altered instantly, morphing into what he saw now.

'_The eyes,'_ he noted, _'are too dark. The lighter colour looks better.' _Mentally kicked himself Malfoy took that thought and slung it as far away as he could before it developed any further. As far as he was concerned he never thought such a thing.

Moving his eyes away from her face Malfoy smiled seductively, making sure to catch the bookworm's eye.

The blush definitely got darker. If he didn't know better he'd also swear the emerald in her eyes got brighter…stupid imagination.

Decided Granger's mind had enough for now Malfoy rose fluidly from his seat, "When you are finished, meet me in the entrance hall. We will leave for Diagon Alley so put something suitable on."

Hermione who was still reeling from the eye interrogation couldn't find a suitable retort.

As the blonde Malfoy swept from the room another house elf appeared with the announcement of breakfast. Magically plates of cereal, muesli, yoghurt, bacon, eggs, sausages, toast and spreads appeared before her, accompanied with a large goblet of pumpkin juice.

Taking what she wanted Hermione pilled her plate high and ate hungrily. The food was so delicious. But she ate quickly, feeling the need to keep Malfoy happy.

'_A happy Malfoy is a silent one,' _Hermione hoped.

When she had finished eating until she couldn't anymore, Hermione gingerly rose. Although her stomach felt it was going to pop she was nevertheless a very contented person. She hadn't really eaten properly since… well, far longer than she would care to debate.

Her mood dampened slightly upon seeing Malfoy waiting in the entrance hall. She really had to get over this aversion. It was becoming unhealthy and would certainly hinder their plan if they couldn't be friendly- acting would simply not work.

"You're not going to change?" he inquired, lifting one elegant eyebrow. His tone was clipped, clearing daring her to go against his _advice._

Venom dripping from her falsely polite words, "Well, I would Malfoy, but I can't seem to find my way back to room. I also seem to be under specific orders not to roam without your person.

Malfoy sighed (far to dramatically in Hermione's opinion), "Now, now Granger. This really must cease. I've taken the liberty of accommodating you and, for future purposes, aiding you. You could," his eyes flared threateningly, " show some appreciation and change your disgusting attitude before I get serious and throw you in Azkaban."

Immediately on the defensive Hermione hissed, "I'm trying to adjust, Malfoy. This is harder than I thought."

A look of condemnation crossed her face as she rubbed her sore eyes, "I'm…sorry, okay." There she had said it.

Pleased Malfoy replied, "Apology accepted. However let's just sort this out now. Anything I say is for your own benefit. I'm not doing this out of the goodness of my heart because if you screw up I _also _pay a price. If I say change, you'll change. Similarly you will shut up if I tell you to. Got it?"

"Sure, I got it Malfoy," genuinely curious she continued, "But if this is so much 'trouble' for you, why did you both agreeing in the first place?" 

Malfoy just shrugged, "A whim, I guess. My reasons do not concern you." He then turned back up the main staircase.

Ashen faced at his admission Hermione followed quietly. Her whole future was based on a whimsical whim (well that sounded intelligent)? Other agendas that didn't concern her? Oh, God help her. She couldn't afford to do anything to upset Malfoy. Even if it meant betraying her pride, self worth or any other noble equality a normal human being may possess.

When they had reached the guest room Malfoy paused to open the door, "Something French or foreign, Granger."

Hermione nodded dumbly and shut the door behind her. She quickly searched through the cupboards. She finally managed to find a skirt and top that didn't shriek evil. It was a bit more revealing that she would have liked but it basically screamed of someone not used to the British climate…or cold, heavy rain.

The skirt was a stonewashed denim mini. The back pockets had black embroidery that eerily seemed to shift as she waved it around. The matching singlet top was black with three spaghetti traps on each shoulder and had a gold emblem printed on the right rib cage. She also opted for a black pair of heels for show.

The overall effect Hermione happily noted was someone foreign to British climate with (while she had a moment to be vain) supermodel looks. It wasn't her but it still felt good to be appreciated for beauty. If the weather turned nasty she would just have to sacrifice dignity and ask Malfoy for a warming charm.

Satisfied after grabbing a (obviously very expensive) robe and cloak Hermione exited the room.

She swore Malfoy didn't even blink at her outfit. He eyed her critically for a second then turned and headed off.

Hermione resisted the childish urge to stick her tongue out behind his back and fell into step behind him.

By the time they'd reached the main doors Hermione had started to wonder how exactly they would be getting to Diagon Alley. The thought of having to travel by flow powder again made her stomach curl itself into knots.

"Etes-vous prêt à aller?"he asked casually.

"**Are you ready to go?**"

Hermione paused in confusion, "what?"

Malfoy's eyes narrowed slightly, "Honnêtement, Granger : sage en haut. Etes-vous. Prêt. À. Aller?"

"**Honestly, Granger: wise up. Are. You. Ready. To. Go?**"

Her brain catching up Hermione stumbled over her first answer, "Oui."

Nodding shortly Malfoy headed out the door.

Parked outside was the most expensive car she had ever seen. Wait…car?? Her eyes shot open in surprise: Malfoy had a _muggle _car? Although it was an incredibly gorgeous, sleek machine that screamed money… but still!

"Nous ne voyageons pas par la Poudre de Floo?" she inquired. Hermione was having great difficultly coming to grips with the concept of a muggle car in Malfoy's driveway.

"**We aren't travelling by Floo Powder?**"

It was black. Check.

Deadly? Probably…Check.

Expensive? Most definitely… Check.

A magic derived item? No…

Malfoy frowned distastefully at her question but choose to grave it with an answer, "Seulement le Père est permis d'utiliser les feux."

"**Only Father is permitted to use the fires.**" 

Hermione let the conversation end there.

As she climbed into the car her curiosity got the better of her. The inside was all soft, black leather and green stitching. The seats were cool but firm- unbelievably comfortable. Hermione was starting to feel out of place in the car- it was beyond anything she had ever seen.

"Quel type de voiture l'est ?"

"**What type of car is it?**"

Smiling (Hermione found that Malfoy smiling was a disturbing concept, especially when she couldn't see a hint of malice) in pride Malfoy responded, "Vanquish S V12."

Hermione rolled her eyes to the heavens ('_boys…'). _Unable to think how to phrase this she reverted back to English, paying specific attention on adding a soft French accent to cover her British one, "I'm sorry, I don't speak automotive."

"It's an Aston Martin." 

"Oh," Hermione breathed.She had _definitely _heard of that one. Donned with her new knowledge she took the change to the study the interior further. From the back seat she could make out the polished stereo and leather wheel. The windows of the car were tinted so the light of the dashboard cast an eerier glow in the car. The dark windows also meant the interior was quite cold: Hermione felt goose bumps raise on her arms as a shiver travelled down her spine. Surprising the car created an, overall, soothing and clam environment. When the driver started the end the strong purr of the engine barely broke the atmosphere.

However, she couldn't rest just yet: there was still the issue of the blonde rival, turned ally, next to her.

"Malfoy…,"she began. The blonde in question turned his head to show she had his attention, "Il ne serait pas meilleur si nous avons arbitré à chaque autre par nos premiers noms?."

"**Wouldn't it be better if we referred to each other by our first names? We are friends now, no?**"

She cast a quick glance at the driver but he seemed to be of no consequence. What she had said could be interpreted in a number of ways. To her surprise Hermione found that she didn't choke on the word 'friend'. At a different time… a different place, she would have hit her head against something very solid (preferably a large book) at the mere thought of being friendly with the blonde git. It still hurt her tough pride to think of Malfoy in anything other than hate but civility may just lead to the experience being bearable.

Malfoy nodded in silent agreement. He was having eerily similar thoughts to Hermione's: of the need to be, or act, as friends. He had lived through worse than anything she could dish out. It may be an ungodly thought but perhaps a gracious and courteous Granger may not be so bad.

The car purred beneath them as the outside word pulled away at unnatural, or some may say magical, speeds.

'_Joanna… Hermione…'_

'_Draco…'_

_AN: First off- thanks to everyone who gave me fantastic comments while I was away. I absolutely loved reading them when I got back. Surprisingly I did A LOT of writing during my break. I was going to concentrate another story but Hermione and Draco stuck in my head the whole time and I had to get them down. I write cause even now I'm not sure quite what's going to happen- I leave it up to the characters. In my very messy scrawl I managed to get down… 18 pages! That's the most I've ever written in one go. Please keep up the enthusiasm and reading!_

_As a note please excuse my terrible French! I had to resort to using an online translator since my knowledge of the language doesn't extend to the type of phrases they use. Don't worry though- I put the English beneath it._

_**Please let me know whether you prefer spacing or no spacing.**_

_Song lyrics Hermione sings: Where I stood by Missy Higgins_


	7. New Wands and Pink Ruffles

**Chapter 7:**

**New wands and pink ruffles**

The car ride passed in silence as the two figures contemplated their own, seemingly, inevitable fates.

The fair skinned woman was wondering how to explain the absent wand. She was quite certain that "the Ministry snapped it because I was naughty" wouldn't cut it. Wands were not indispensable but there were extremely hard to come by a second time.

_Very interesting selection. Interesting indeed, Miss Granger…_

_Unicorn hair…_

_Pure strands yet the other choices were so dark…_

_Darker fate…_

She shook her head and turned back, looking out the dark window. Going over her mental French dictionary would pass the time faster than contemplating old memories.

The blonde aristocrat next to her was thinking of his mother's dawning arrival. Her reaction to the 'new guest' would not be surprising but there would always be the overhanging threat of exposure. Being a purely selfish creature Narcissa Malfoy would only keep silent if she could gain something from it. There was not much he could offer her she would not already have or nothing she could not gain. Somehow "I found her on the street and I'm going to help her take down Voldikins" was not going to go down well.

In a matter of no time the car had pulled up outside The Leaky Cauldron. Immediately Malfoy reached for the handle and stepped out of the door, closing it and leaving Hermione alone in the cook interior. Following his lead Hermione reached for the handle, only to have it disappear from her fingertips.

A little ungracefully Hermione climbed out of the low car to find Draco (once Malfoy) holding the door open for her. Despite herself, she found it easy to smile at the courtesy and bestowed him with a dazzlingly grin.

Stepping past Draco the smile faltered. She hadn't smiled in so long. Yet the muscles in her face had reacted to her mood and it felt as if it never been given up. But it felt wrong to be smiling under the circumstances: her life was in immediate danger just by stepping out of a car and her friends no longer cared enough to fight for her. Yet, on a cold, grey lane in front of entrance few could see Hermione felt perfectly at ease. She knew Draco would not allow any harm to come to her. He was arrogant and a prick but there was no denying a sense of chivalry (towards the right people) and definite ability to do anything to save his own arse. As long as she wasn't brash she would survive unscathed. Well, perhaps she wouldn't ever get out anything involving Malfoy, unscathed.

On the other hand, here in the middle of the wizard metropolis she didn't have to worry about hiding. She wouldn't be prosecuted wherever she went. Still slightly apprehensive Hermione found herself embracing the newfound freedom. Even the company could be worse. Voldemort would be far less accommodating. Oh yes, she no longer feared to say his name. After discovering there were greater things to dread, a name hardly seemed to matter. The thing behind the name was a different matter entirely. Harry had made her see that. Harry… No. No. No. That was a topic for discussion. Hermione reverently shut the lid on that chest.

Draco was staring confounded at the back of Granger's (now Hermione) head. The young witch had just bestowed him with a genuine smile, happiness radiating off her for that instant. And it had been Granger he had seen, not Joanna. For a second, and he'd swear insanity if anyone asked, he had seen the old Granger's face looking back, lit with happiness. The corners of his mouth lifted slightly in response before he clamped the stoic mask back on, hoping no one saw that.

Truthfully, Draco admitted he would have revelled at the change to get one up on the resident bookworm. This chance would have been opportune to teach the Golden Trio a decent lesson.

But now, with both their lives on the line, he couldn't afford to do anything to upset an obviously delicate balance of peace.

"_Beside,"_ Draco confessed, "_She can't be too bad if she keeps her temper… and general personality… in check. I couldn't almost forget who she really is…was."_

They walked through The Leaky Cauldron door, which had become stuck in the damp weather. They had to be careful to avoid any Muggles who might find it strange to see two people disappear in a vacant lot. There was no denying she turned heads- literally. He was grimly pleased to notice, however, that upon seeing her company the guilty head turns promptly went back to their original position.

Hermione noticed the sudden shift in attention towards her person and couldn't help the blush creep onto her cheeks. She could only just cope with the unfamiliar, intense and scrutinizing gazes and yet a part of her revelled in the attention. She was almost of the verge of basking in the glow- she found it very _odd_ and slightly discerning. Yet the logical part of brain was insistent and she frowned slightly, realising that they were only admiring the façade and they would never have spared her a glance her before.

In the corner of the bar a group caught her attention. They seemed undisturbed by her present company and continued to stare hungrily from the safety of the tavern shadows. From what little light lit the corner Hermione could only get a brief glance before she stomach twisted uncomfortably. The men were all unshaven and poorly dressed, while their torn and dirty cloaks hung lazily around their lanky frames. On the table rested a combination of empty and full glasses of Firewhiskey, old cigarettes and a strange purple powder that Hermione didn't want to go anywhere near.

Yet even as she made the decision to move away from the revolting group one of the men had the audacity to capture her attention completely. He raised a thick and greasy stained finger at her winking, wiggling it back in the universal message of 'come here'. His face transformed was transformed in a hungry and lazy smirk, swollen eyes racking over her body.

Disgusted to the point of gagging Hermione allowed her temper to suppress the revulsion. Her titled her chin and set her stance, still not quite honouring the beast with her full attention. A warm fire built in her stomach, swarming towards her fingers as they twitched to grasp the wand that unfortunately, or fortunately for the creature, wasn't there. Hermione's faced to shifted to barely concealed frustration as she was forced to throw out the one… or twelve curses she had been planning to use.

Draco, who had been watching the quiet little interchange decided it was time to intervene before… well he wasn't quite certain but even without a wand he wasn't betting on the men to come out alive, or at least without missing a few vital appendages. He grasped Hermione's arm firmly and pulled in her in the direction of the courtyard. She had refused to budge at first but with slightly more force than necessary he had got her feet into gear. He waited until she was securely into front of him before he levelled the group with his own brand of 'if looks could kill'. He did receive a little jolt of satisfaction when they squirmed awkwardly and shifted back into the shadows. The original transgressor, however, was refusing to budge under his gaze.

"_Stubborn bastard,_" Draco thought. Incase he didn't get the message Draco then started to purposely twirl his wand around his fingers.

"_One…two…Good little, fat worm._" Draco approved as the man had got the very unsubtle message and had turned back to his drink. Spirits lightened considerably by the quick submission (especially since he didn't have to make it to three) Draco joined Hermione in the courtyard, who was still looking distinctly ticked off.

Now completely alone Draco confronted Hermione. "Etes-vous complètement ignorant? Vous auriez dû prévoir une telle réaction. Ils n'auraient pas dû valoir votre temps. Les gens vous traiteront différemment. A côté de... personne obtiendra près à vous avec me tout près."

"**Are you completely ignorant? You should have expected such a reaction. They shouldn't have been worth your time. People ARE going to treat you differently. Beside... no one will get close to you with me nearby."**

Hermione immediately snapped out of her dangerous brooding. Straight away her heart raced as she searched Malfoy's words for anything that could give them away. Anything, even the tiniest slip was enough to reveal them both and in such an open environment she had to be continually on edge. As she carefully sorted though the French (placing it back into English) she realised she was safe. Malfoy had managed to avoid any reference to their _situation _without batting an eyelid- not that she should have expected anything less, really.

She was more confused at some of the other messages. Insults seemed to come as standard, so that wasn't out of character. Perhaps what she wasn't used to the youngest Malfoy trying to comfort her.

"_No. That's not right,_" Hermione thought. "_It was more like he was trying to placate me. He was telling me I am better than them and that… I should get used to people treating me differently because of how I look. It's almost comforting but, then again, it's coming from Malfoy_."

Hermione just mentally shook her head to clear her thoughts. It didn't matter what Malfoy intended. The point was that he was, regrettably, right and she needed to get used to certain reactions. She couldn't react angrily every time some idiot gave her a hungry look. It would also speak nothing of the character she was set to play. The beautiful got treated differently, even amongst the Muggles. While the idea of external beauty had been superficial to her in the past she was now in a situation where she would be forced to accept the world it opened up.

With another flash of insight Hermione realised the truth in Draco's last words. All… well _most_ of the attention had been hurriedly redirected as soon as Malfoy had come in behind her. No one was brave or foolish enough to go near someone in a Malfoy's company. Indeed, Hermione saw that no one viewed them as she did. To her, they were allied and possibly companions but through the eyes of everyone else they were something more. Of course, the rich Malfoy would not be enjoying the company of a beautifully exotic woman for the conversation. How naïve she had been. It had taken only a greasy and drunk old man to open her eyes. Pitiful…

Sighing sadly at the sate of the new world she had been plunged into, Hermione followed Draco through the disappearing brick wall.

Diagon Alley looked the same as it had the first time she had walked through the doors, fearfully clinging to her mother's skirt. People wove in and out of each other, carrying bulking packages, dragging reluctant children, staring dreamily into the shop windows and friends calling happily to each other through the crowds. The shops remained a jumble of mismatched colours and designs, all dwarfed by the white marble of Gringotts. For a moment Hermione let herself see through different eyes: to look tenderly on a world she loved and that had never rejected her.

Being with Draco was like nothing Hermione had ever experienced. The crowd literally parted for the handsome young man and his equally gorgeous partner.

Unfortunately with the attention came a much darker reception. Hermione tried to keep her gaze steady but it wandered and she was unable to stope the frenzy of emotions playing on people's faces as they watched them pass: shock, terror, contempt, anger, hatred and once she swears she saw pity. Hermione felt a stab of pity for the youngest Malfoy. While he had been an arse at school she didn't know if any of the actions he had done in the 'real' world to warrant such a terrible reception. She wondered if he was judged like this everywhere he went, without trial or compassion.

However, she was very grateful that Draco still had a firm grip on her arm. She certainly didn't expect to be recognised by anyone but she couldn't deny that her heartbeat sped up every time someone's gaze lingered. Her overactive imagination was also unhelpfully supplying images of Auroras rushing out of every discernable vantage point. Then there was the fact that the wet cobblestones weren't suited to high heels. She mentally scowled herself for forgetting something so practical. She could only blame it on a rush of hormones in an uncharacteristic display of fashion consciousness. But if she slipped and fell on her face now… She repressed a shudder. She'd probably die of mortification.

As they continued to weave their way through the mobs of people a flash of ginger caught her eye. Her breath hitched for a moment before it disappeared. Her eyes desperately racked the crowd but she could find no hint of the person she may, or may not have seen. Not that it mattered. She really couldn't care if she ran into _them. _

Ha! Who was she kidding? Hermione wasn't quite above lying to herself but she knew that even if she were to see them she probably wouldn't be able to stop herself falling apart. Draco would kill her for causing a scene now so she pulled her mind back to resemble an organised state and continued on, stamping out any flashes of recognisable and painful ginger.

Ollivanders was warm and thankfully dry when they finally managed to make their way to the famous little shop. Much to Hermione's relief the last customer left upon their arrival; a smartly dressed witch pulling her son through the door as the child turned wide eyes upon Hermione and Draco. She let out a breath she didn't realise she was holding. It was going to be hard convincing Ollivander of the need for a new wand, let alone a room of strangers. Then again… wasn't the customer always right?

Ollivander himself, who had been appraising the couple from the safety of a bookshelf decided it was time to let his presence be known. He wasn't, however, without cautiousness judging by the present company he had found himself in. "Ahh… Mr Malfoy. It is pleasure as always to see you- and your guest, of course. How may I be of service? Surely nothing is wrong with your wand."

Draco raised an elegant eyebrow. There were never issues with Ollivander's wands. Something the old man was quite aware of and horribly proud of. Yet, Draco wasn't about to discourage any of the proper pleasantries and merely motioned for Hermione to step forward.

Ollivander's attention shifted immediately. He had presumed that the young lady was merely another _attachment_, rather than the reason for their presence. An unfortunately grave presumption on his part and probably one he would not be wise to repeat.

"I am in need of a new wand, Mr Ollivander," Hermione took special care to lance her voice with a light French accent, slurring some of words together.

Ollivanders eyebrows shot of disbelievingly, "Surely, madam has not lost it?"

Copying a move she learnt from Draco, Hermione shrugged haughtily, "I can assure you I would not purposely lose something so… precious." She paused as if to try and find the right words. "It was stolen. Upon my arrival it was taken along with all my other possessions. Despite my, I mean our, best efforts we have been able to locate it." Changing demeanours suddenly she flashed him with a brilliant smile, "I hope a man such as yourself can understand my need to replace it. I would be terribly… inconvenienced, if I must wait for its return. I also heard your wands were nothing but the best Monsieur Ollivander."

The old man's eyes had a slightly glassy sheen to them as he nodded and disappeared behind one of the many shelves at the back of the store.

Hermione glanced behind her shoulder to gauge Draco's reaction. His was stubbornly clear of anything but polite boredom. Hermione huffed slightly and resolutely turned her back- even a small nudge of encouragement would have been appreciated.

Ollivander remerged moments later carrying three long boxes, each covered in a large degree of dust.

"The first: Centaur mane, willow, 16 and a half inches."

Hermione took the wand a little gingerly, immediately noticing the subtle differences and waved it a small crescent movement. A sound like a gunshot went off, making her jump slightly, followed by a crash somewhere in the back of the shop. Hermione had a sneaky suspicion that one, or more, of the large shelves had just toppled.

"_Woops. My bad,_" Hermione thought.

Ollivander barely glanced at the sound, "No. Definitely not. Second: Dragon heartstring, redwood, 17 inches."

Hermione, feeling silly waved the wand again.

No loud bang. Good.

No crashing or otherwise destructive sounds. Good.

But in a few moments Hermione's heart sank as the desk in front of her melted into a large puddle of bubbling and frothing pumpkin juice.

"Well, that's different," both Hermione and Draco speculated in sequence. Hermione swore, as she watched Ollivander return to the desk to its original state, that Draco was angrily barrelling holes in the back of her skull. It wasn't as if it was her fault, anyway. God. Hermione fought the urge to roll her eyes: it was his fault for getting worked up over something so trivial in the first place.

"Lastly: Phoenix feather, mahogany, 17 and a half inches."

As Hermione grasped the wand she felt an immediate difference. Warmth started to spread from her fingertips, warming her whole body and lights danced behind her eyes. She flicked the wand and the lights disappeared- instead they poured out of the tip of the wand, sparking when they hit of the floor.

Ollivander nodded, frowning slightly, and Hermione handed the wand back over, pleased at her success.

"_Oh, crap,_" she thought. She turned back to Draco, eyes pleading. Hermione had completely forgotten the fact she had no money to access. She couldn't even access any of her own funds for this trip. But Draco was already aware of the fact and handed over the appropriate amount without batting an eyelid.

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief and was about to stride out after Draco when Ollivander stopped her in her tracks. "Miss, whatever your purpose is, I suggest you abandon it," he warned, knowing eyes boring into Hermione's hazel ones.

"Excuse me?" she replied, desperately trying to regain a sense of composure.

Ollivander merely pointed to the wand resting safely in her cloak pocket, "I've dealt with many wands in my time. But still there are some I wouldn't wish on anyone. Contrary to some beliefs the wands present themselves to me- I don't choose which ones wish to be selected by a new master. The wand you now hold… I didn't lie when I said it was a phoenix feather. A black phoenix feather to be exact- one of the very wands I _don't_ bring out to my customers under _any _circumstances. Do you understand?"

Hermione, still trying to recover some of stoic composure shook her head numbly. What on earth was he talking about? To her knowledge- she'd never heard of such a creature. Phoenixes were, by their very nature, a fire elemental creature- there was no distinguishing their species.

Ollivander, who chose not to notice the young lady's turmoil continued, "The creatures are rare and they say one is only born every millennia. The creatures are born black as midnight so without their fire they are unable to be reborn in ashes. Thus, they are cursed creatures that only appear to those of a cursed fate. I would not have given out such a wand if it had not been so insistent. I won't deny it isn't powerful, I'd be lying through my teeth if I said otherwise but a cursed creature will not give its aid freely. The wand is dangerous, even more so in the wrong hands."

Hermione was getting a little sick of curses and dark fates, even if the idea rattled her curiosity. "Then why would you give out such a wand, Mr Ollivander?" she hissed.

If possible, Ollivander's gaze got more intense, "I don't choose the wand. The wand chooses it's master and this one has chosen _you._ Your purpose is dark if you need such a wand to accomplish it. The creatures themselves aren't evil but such power in the wrong hands can't help aid a darker purpose. I'm warning for you to be extremely careful of what fate you choose for that wand."

"I don't believe in fate. Nor do I believe in evil wands. It is the magic one uses, not the wand itself. Surely, you are not so blind as to see that?" Hermione replied stiffly as strode out of the door, not caring to turn back to the old man and his ridiculous ideas. Even if they bothered her a little…maybe some research was needed.

Ollivander was still staring at the young lady's back as she rejoined her companion. He shook his head sadly. Whatever had lead that wand into that girl's hand was not going to end in happiness. Darkness tended to find company in shadows, not light, after all.

Draco reclaimed Hermione's arm as soon as she had left the building. Although curious, he had no intention of finding out just what their conversation had been about. The old man was always spurting tragedies and dooms about wands. Or maybe that was just his family.

"Avez-vous faim?" asked Draco. People inclined their heads in their direction with the sound of an unfamiliar language. "Let them think what they want," Draco scoffed silently.

"**Are you hungry?"**

Hermione was entirely happy to finish their shopping trip just yet- she was enjoying the freedom, after it took some getting used to. "Une tasse de café serait agréable, merci," she replied politely.

"**A cup of coffee would be nice, thanks."**

Nodding in agreement Draco steered her towards Merlins'- the most expensive coffee shop in the Alley.

Hermione resisted the urge roll her eyes or giggle. He was _so _predictable.

Draco, on the other hand, was smirking happily on the inside, "_Let Granger have a taste of _real _coffee._"

Moments later they were being served by (in Hermione's opinion) a _very _good-looking waiter.

"Double strength, white espresso- no cream," Draco stated without looking at the menu.

Hermione smiled at the order, understanding a caffeine hit when she saw one. They shared that in common. Not that they needed to share anything she quickly retracted.

"Cappuccino- no sugar and full cream milk, thanks," she ordered. She had to admit it was flattering how the waiter shot her an appreciative smile. Even if commonsense was growling angrily at the last time someone had looked at her 'flatteringly'. Before the memory affected her mood she quickly shut that part of her mind up, throwing away the key. She smiled warmly at the young man, shutting up that any common sense for the minute.

Draco scowled at the waiter, a definite warning to back off flashing in his eyes. Then suddenly he withdrew, wondering where on earth the urge to even ward the guy off _Granger_ had even come from. "_Just saving her from herself_", he reasoned. "_Before she screws us both up._"

The rest of the time passed as the two enjoyed the coffee and, surprisingly, comfortable silence.

Draco was just ready to head off when a piercing and familiar yell…no, screech hit his ears.

"Drakey!"

Visibly flinching Draco turned in his seat to see Pansy pushing her way through the crowd to get inside the coffee shop.

Glancing quickly at Hermione, who had noticed the problem Draco tried to judge if there was enough time to make it out the door before Pansy caught up with them…more specifically him. But when she came barrelling through the door Draco sank back into the chair and prepared himself for the inevitable.

Hermione, who watched the brief interplay, fought a snide smile. Some things never changed, although Draco seemed less eager to be in her company. Not that she could blame him, really. At this point it was also dangerous to have contact with people they knew. There would always be the possibility of a slip. Yet more possible slips.

Yet all danger was driven out her mind when Pansy latched her chubby arms around Draco's neck and blatantly ignored her presence. A muscle started to tick in her eye. Was this girl completely without manners? When one of Pansy's ridiculously high heels connected with her foot, Hermione nearly lost it. Nursing a likely bruised foot she continued to glare daggers in the back of Pansy's head.

"_Arrogant, fat, rude, obnoxious little cow_!" she growled mentally. "_All these years and you haven't changed a bit. I really wish I'd got chance to curse you…_" Well cursing was certainly out of the question, even if the new wand needed a _trial run_ but Hermione definitely wasn't above a little revenge.

What was she thinking? Hermione gave herself a little shake. Her temper was really getting away with her these days (no thanks to said blonde ally). Maybe Pansy had changed and Hermione just needed to give her a chance. Yeh, that was right. She'd just wait it out and see how things went.

Unlatching himself from Pansy's grip Draco's smile was strained, "Pansy, what a pleasure. How have you been?"

Effectively planting herself in the spare chair Pansy blatantly ignored the other present company, "Oh Drakey! I haven't seen you for so long- it feels like forever. Why didn't you answer my letter? Why didn't you come over last night? I missed you." Pansy's face turned into what Hermione supposed was supposed to be a seductive sulk. She didn't miss the hand that snaked its way onto Draco's thigh either.

Nope, Hermione concluded: same disgusting tart- hasn't changed a bit. She was deeply tempted to have a go at revenge but she decided to let Draco handle the woman. She was his problem after all. Pansy hadn't done anything to insult her or concur her wrath…today…or yet.

Draco had chosen to ignore the hand in the hope it would soon disappear. The pointy end of his wand might give her a hint. He wondered why Granger hadn't intervened yet. Maybe it was time to bring her to the party- anything to distract Pansy. "I've been entertaining. Pansy meet Joanna, a good friend of mine," he indicated to Hermione.

He noticed his voice strained slightly on 'friend', although for what reason he wasn't sure.

Pansy, who only just noticed the third party darted her narrowed eyes over Hermione. What she saw didn't please her in the slightest. Not that it mattered- Draco was hers and she would just have to make that clear.

In a unconcealed gesture of contempt Pansy turned her back completely on Hermione, swivelling the chair around and focused on Draco, "But Drakey! Can't you just stick her in inn or something? Or maybe a brothel?" The last comment she said directly at Hermione, a nauseatingly fake smile plastered on her face.

The muscle in Hermione's eye started to twitch again. A brothel? How dare she! Hermione had to forcibly clamp her hands together to stop them from reaching her wand.

"_She's not worth it, she's not worth it…_" she chanted rhythmically in her head. "_I will _not_ curse Pansy into next week, no matter how much she deserves it_. _Oh… one little spell wouldn't hurt, would it? No Hermione! Bad girl! You are not going to get arrested over something like hexing that pig! Even if she does deserve it…No! She's not worth it…"_

Pansy's voiced dropped as she leaned closer to Draco, "If you get rid of this tramp then maybe we can reschedule last night's activities."

That did it. Hermione's control snapped. Her eyes were burning dangerously, the colour darkened drastically as she rose from her chair. Magic was not an option but she wasn't above a power play- anything to take Pansy down. Starting with…Draco was a good target.

Draco would who caught the murderous gleam was becoming slightly more anxious. He didn't like the look on Granger's face, or the smirk she was sending him.

Hermione made her way around the table, brushing past Pansy until she was standing directly behind Draco. Slowly and deliberately she draped her hands onto to Draco's shoulders. Absentmindedly she played with the collar in her right hand, the whole time keeping her eyes directly on Pansy.

"Tramp?" She whispered sweetly, her voice dripping with venom. "You would call me a tramp wearing that hideous outfit?"

It certainly wasn't Hermione's finest comeback but it was true beyond a reasonable doubt. The girl was dressed in a disgusting combination of baby blue fabric and pink ruffles. The outfit also left little to the imagination- did she look a mirror at all before she left? Probably a hundred times, actually. Not that it helped.

"Draco," she emphasised daringly, "I'm afraid will be busy every night from now on."

"Oh, really?" Pansy bit out, seething.

Hermione, who was enjoying herself smiled sarcasticly and lowered her hands so they rested half way down Draco's chest. She kept her eyes on Pansy's reddening face but couldn't help notice the gentle beat pulsing against her left arm. So he had a heart, after all. "_Well that was stupid_," she chided. "_Of course he would have a heart- not that her ever really seemed to use it_."

Draco, at the moment, was finding it a little difficult to concentrate. The limbs draped around his person were annoyingly taking up all his attention. He was used to being caught up in the middle of cat fights (namely over him) but this was something quite different. He was used to Pansy's revolting and ugly attempts at seduction but he could deal with that. What he was having trouble with was Granger's… Hermione's armed wrapped securely around his neck and her warm breathe just above his ear. Not that he was thinking about any of those things. Perhaps a different topic was a better idea that concentrating on what was happening around him.

Well, the rest of the occupants of the coffee shop were obviously too polite to get involved so there was no threat there. As long as Granger held her tongue… speaking of which why was she even getting involved? The brothel comment may have had something to do with it… or the tramp remark… could have been Pansy's manners.

"_Ah… point taken_," Draco sighed. Maybe it was amazing she had held her cool thing long. Still this really was a very weird… and not entirely as awkward as it should been… situation and one he intended to rectify himself of immediately. Starting with-

Draco was pulled out of his musing when Hermione's fingers found bare skin around his neck. They were amazingly warm…

"_Time to stop that train of thought_," Draco instructed. Instead he focused on keeping his mind completely blank as he watched the scene before him. Granger unquestionably had the advantage in the brain stakes and appearances for that matter. No. He wasn't going down that train of though again. Did he say again? Obviously, Draco meant for the first time. Ever.

As it was, Pansy's face was now contorting into a very ugly expression of anger. "Why you little whore! Do not presume for a minute that Draco would waste any of his time on you," she sneered.

"_Right, Pansy. Just keep insulting the person whose about to hex you into next week_," Draco snorted mentally.

Hermione's withdrew her hands slightly, the fingers practically twitching to grab her wand.

"Especially since its obvious you won't need someone of Draco's standard to keep your bed warm. I'm sure the trash back at The Cauldron would be happy to assist you," Pansy added in ignorance of just how much anger she was stirring up.

Draco stiffened. That was definitely _not _a good example to use.

Hermione's eyes were almost black now, flashing dangerously as lights danced behind her eyes. This had gone on long enough. She was going to end this before she did something she _wasn't _going to regret later. Taking a deep breath to calm herself she shrugged complacently and lowered her head so she was eye level with Pansy and just above Draco's left shoulder. "I don't care for your opinion or manners. It would be wiser if you kept your mouth shut uncase someone makes you eat your words later. I would be happy to do so, were you not a waste of space. As it currently stands, Draco doesn't care for your company. He certainly won't be warming your bed," she turned to Draco and added in French, "Pouvons-nous diriger s'il vous plaît à la maison maintenant, Draco?"  
**"Can we please head home now, Draco?"**

It occurred to Draco that he probably should have defended himself at some point during the tryst but since Hermione was already heading out the door this wasn't the appropriate time. "Another time perhaps, Pansy," he said over his shoulder. He despised her company but she, unfortunately, had many sources he may need in future. Therefore, he would put up with her boorish behaviour.

Hermione on the other hand may need to learn when to keep her nose out of other's business. It would entirely unacceptable she her temper flared every time someone insulted her.

They made the trip back to the Aston Martin in relative silence, each not quite knowing what to say. It wasn't until the door was closed and the black car was speeding down a London Motorway that Hermione couldn't hold it any longer. In mirth, her laughter had her doubling over in the chair, tears squeezing from her eyes.

When her laughter had finally subsided, Draco questioned, "Don't tell me you enjoyed that?" There was no longer any need for pretences, so he dropped the language.

Another grin spilt over Hermione's face, "Oh, you have no idea. Pansy had that coming."

"That may be so," Draco suddenly turned serious, "But that doesn't mean you can loose your temper at every insult. If you get angry and spill something, remember, it's both our heads you' re sacrificing. Pansy is easy game, Granger. But I'm not going to be able to save your arse you if end up biting off more than you can chew. You _can't _insult some people- no matter what they say to you. Try and keep it calm." Draco, paused and said something he may very well regret later, "I… appreciate the fact you didn't resort to magic, however. That was… ah… smart of you." Distinctly uncomfortable with the complimentary turn of conversation Draco quickly added, smirking, "That doesn't mean you're able to be use my person for your games. Next tie, _try _and keep your hands to yourself."

Hermione, who had been trying to repress a happy glow of pride suddenly, felt the mood plummet. He thought…. Argh! Well, she didn't want to know what Malfoy was thinking but it probably something in the vicinity of a gutter. She had no problem what so ever keeping her hands off his greasy body. Hermione grimaced inwardly at the mere thought.

As she reflected on the words she suddenly caught onto something important and a low hissed escaped her. Malfoy had used her name. She glanced quickly at the driver but he seemed unconcerned. She shifted her eyes to Draco but he just shrugged nonchalantly and shook his head, indicating it was of no issue.

"I could guess you're not accustomed to such allegations of being in the vicinity of _my_ bed," Hermione shot back. "Not that you rejected the idea."

"Keep dreaming, Granger." However, her comment wasn't entirely unfounded, Draco mused. If Granger had pulled out her wand and fired curses (to which, he was sure, Pansy would come off worse) then he would have owed Blaise Zabini forty galleons on an outstanding bet. Not that she needed to know that.

Hermione, who had actually caught the gleam in Malfoy's stormy eyes simply huffed and fell back into her seat.

But Draco, who had become trapped in reminiscing better times suddenly wondered how far _Hermione _could be pushed before cracks started to appear. That was the part of the deal, of course: torture, taunting, riling, ridiculing and testing boundaries came as standard. Why waste it? Leaning closer until his breathe shifted the hair behind her ear he whispered, "Of course, you are most welcome to be in my vicinity."

Hermione, who had stiffened visibly as the blonde aristocrat whispered in her ear was undeniable aware of just how closer he was. His breath was making her neck tickle! Not to mention that he had just scrambled her brains, fried them and served them for dinner.

Then she caught on.

His grey eyes were locked on to her face, lips turned up slightly in entertainment. She had to forcibly rip her eyes away from the sight before she forgot whom she was dealing with. "_Git, git, annoying git, bully, git,_" she reminded herself, hardly able to give herself a pat on the back for creativity.

In a move, she sincerely hoped would not end tragically she lowered her eyes and pouted (a move she seen pulled by the Patil twins hundreds of time). Then, when she given Draco enough time to reconsider exactly what he was suggesting she let the face fall abruptly into a delighted smirk, "Nice try, Malfoy. I'm not so easy."

Mildly surprised and still trying to get the image of the real Granger pouting out of his once clean mind Draco pulled back and nodded slightly, "You'll keep."

What they both knew he meant was, "You'll survive."

_AN: I'm so sorry this took so long- it went on the back burner with school, exams, sport etc etc. But don't worry- I'm not going to abandon it cause Draco and Hermione would kill me. Please excuse the dodgy French again- I'm so appreciative of my little free translator. PLEASE leave comments with me- what you thought or even if you have a story inquiry. I will answer what ever I can as long as it doesn't give away the plot;) As to Hermione acting a lot differently in this chapter- well I can only say that her experiences have changed her and she is a little more worldly these days and does what she has to… I also love the idea of her having a little fiery temper under the bookworm (which will come up later I promise), while trying to keep with what she thinks is right! Um… I haven't completely changed from the use of surnames because I don't think they should be that comfortable yet. When I'm writing sure, its ok, but when they are thinking about each other it's different. Draco would be far less comfortable with the idea I think, since Hermione could learn to just accept it. _


	8. Learning to Fly

**Chapter 8: Learning to Fly**

The early morning was chill in the pre- dawn light. Shadows still hung darkly around the room, not yet banished by the sun's rays.

But it was the silence that enveloped Hermione the most. At this hour the house was only beginning to stir. From her room in the East Wing she could faintly hear the house elves, moving through the rooms and preparing for the day. Lights would be turning on, the magic illuminating the rooms in a dull glow until the sun was strong enough. Yet, even the glow wouldn't be able to hide the misery and darkness of the rooms, which were all decorated in eerily familiar dark shades.

Hermione curled her legs under her in the large chair, gazing mindlessly out the window. Unable to sleep she had thrust the heavy drapes back only to find that it was still too early for her to make out any shapes from the inky grey.

The only other human life in the Manor was probably still fast asleep, she mused. For that alone was probably why the place was coldly silent.

This place, even at her favourite hour, still seemed desolate and oppressive to her. The dark nights could only be filled with deeds of the unsavoury so solace and quiet brought no real comfort. It was like trying to find peace and serenity, while trying to sleep on a bed of nails- the points had you constantly on guard, agitated and awake when your body desperately craved a respite. It sought to grow paranoia for the absence of sound only new grew malevolent possibilities.

At Hogwarts, dawn had always been bright and warm, filled with the new day of adventures: adventures that she could face with her friends by her side. There was never anything _real _to fear, just frivolous teenage worries. Her misplaced concerns then seemed so _silly _now. Oh sure, there had been monsters, dark magic and dangerous adventures but it was always Harry that got himself in immediate danger. They never wanted anything from her.

Hermione sighed wearily and shifted her position: legs dangling over the chair's arm while her head rested heavily on the side wing. She was starting to feel claustrophobic but her limbs felt to lethargic to move. Besides, she was a virtual prisoner in this room until her esteemed warden decided to let her out. She had a painful curiosity to search the rooms of the Manor but she believed Malfoy when he warned her that she would just be getting herself killed. Gratingly, she realised her curiosity only stemmed from the old habit of conspiracy and protection of Harry. What she found would no longer serve any purpose but to herself and even that wasn't an incentive to get up out of the very comfy chair.

The Mudblood of the famous Trio no longer had a reason to fight. What was the point of fighting when there was nothing to fight for? Fight to survive? Why survive when there was no one else to live for? Hermione shrank backwards into the chair, she felt _so _selfish sitting here using people for her own stupid gain. Malfoy was right, she couldn't just lie down and stay there. But she would never forgive herself if she didn't try. What would everyone think of what she had become now? Harry and Ron's face flashed briefly, features contorted into disgust and then sympathy. She squashed the vision ruthlessly, not sure what was more painful to see.

She flicked her wand, tracing a small treble clef in the air. "Gabriel," she whispered sadly. The familiar tune washed over her, doing nothing ease her distress. Grinding her teeth together she forced herself to listen to the lyrics and to focus on the melody of the notes.

I can fly

But I want his wings

She was growing tired of the situation: of the running, hiding, lying, pretending, hating. It was like the darkness she had been coupled with was always growing, feeding sardonically off her misery and it wouldn't be long till it won. It was getting harder to tell herself she had to keep going, like a Dementor followed her every move. Her stubbornness would only last so long.

I can shine even in the darkness

But I crave the light that he brings

Each old memory cracked the fissure in her heart. Ever since that day she found it a struggle to hold it together. Happy memories sought to taunt her- what was can never be again. Painful memories sought to show her the pain she had caused on those that would never love her the same again. She never asked to be like this. She wanted to be stronger so she didn't have to feel. She wondered how Harry had kept it all together.

The pain tore at her very soul until it felt like her body was falling apart. And at some point she'd stop feeling the pain and loosen her arms from around herself. She's stand on the verge of the void, infinitely numb but too scared to dive forward.

Revel in the songs that he sings

My angel Gabriel

Then something brighter would flare inside her, rushing heat through her brain and she'd feel whole again and determined. She was alive, she could fight and she wasn't about to give in. Yet, she was living on a knife edge; so easily toppled one way…

No, dwelling wasn't healthy. Hermione unwrapped around her arms from her stomach and brushed the tears from her eyes. Even the ghost of the pain was enough to send her spiraling. She wasn't strong enough. Yet.

I can love

But I need his heart

She smiled sadly at the lyrics. She knew what it was like to loose an angel. The song held more for her than anyone would probably ever know. Her glazed eyes stared back out the window. Light was just revealing the shapes of the outside world. Had an eternity not passed? Maybe it was just her, after all.

I am strong even on my own

But from him I never want to part

He's been there since the very start

My angel Gabriel

Suddenly, her mind cleared as the memories and tears faded behind her barrier. The room seemed to snap into focus and she felt the blood pound in her veins. She was alive, alert and life wasn't to be wasted. She was so _tired _of brooding on what was- she wanted a relief so badly it burned through her body. These walls were too small. She felt like a trapped animal and she began to panic slightly. This feeling was irrational she told herself yet it was wild and rolled off her in waves. A dull roar sounded in her ears as fever wracked over she skin, heating her in the morning chill.

She was still staring at the window when a thought tracked across her mind. She smiled at the idea and rose jerkily from the chair.

Bless the day he came to be

Angel's wings carried him to me

Heavenly

A new energy lifting her she unlatched the window. In another corner of her mind she reached out for a different emotion- one that was free and wild. Immediately, she felt her body shift in response and she let herself become overtaken with the soothing pulse of her heart. Closing her eyes, Hermione let the world fall away. She felt herself shrinking, her body becoming unrecongisable as her blood pulsed through new veins. It was a familiar change. Heat pulsed over her skin; shrinking, tightening as it surged through her body, muscles tightening and stretching.

There was more than one way to be free. Even for a little while.

I can fly

But I want his wings

She opened the world with new eyes. With one giant stroke she lifted herself from the ground and dived out the window. The wind shifted every feather on her body as she climbed the currents for a pocket of calm. Her new muscles strained slightly when pitted against the wind but it stood no chance.

I can shine even in the darkness

But I crave the light that he brings

Revel in the songs that he sings

The world quickly fell behind her but in the sky there was nothing to aim for, only the pale shape of the moon. The wind currents changed, pushing firmly against her left side. In response Hermione titled her wings and rolled as the wind pushed her away. When it finally eased she followed with a 360 roll, laughter erupting from her beak in the form of a few short cries. The world righted itself and she turned to look back. She let the air keep her up with gusts through her large wings, like the wind whistling through the trees. The sensation of being steady with nothing substantial under her was something she was still yet to get used to, even if her instincts told her it was okay.

The Manor was now the edge of her horizon, a black shape enveloped by the forest. Hermione was uncertain exactly how far the security barriers of the property reached but it wouldn't matter if she stayed in this form. No amount of magic could distinguish the ordinary animal from the extraordinary.

She angled her body downwards towards the trees, heading for one of the larger, sturdier branches. She landed gently, relishing for a moment the feeling of her talons slicing into the thick limb.

The morning was a world full of changing colours and sounds. Her keen eyes were able to distinguish the differences in greens of one leaf, the colours of bark. It was if the whole world was a changing dance of colour and form, filled continually with echoing sounds and murmurs; most of which she was able to pinpoint with relative accuracy. A small grey blue caught in her left eye and she lazily followed the small mouse as it frantically ran around the base of the tree. The eagle in her screamed _breakfast _but her human half had enough power to mentally retch on the idea and throw it out the metaphorical window. She would…could never lower herself to feed in this form; it was so barbaric she would probably end up throwing it up later. It was amazing; Hermione marvelled silently as she let her gaze trail deliberately away from the creature how strong the animal instincts of the chosen form were. Sirius had never mentioned it and, as far as she knew, Lupin's transformation completely overruled his more intelligent senses. But when transforming into an animal one acquired the same instincts; to kill, to run, to fly and to protect. And on top of that they were so much stronger than anything she'd experienced. Sure, emotions were from her human reasoning but no one ever taught her how to fly or hunt. The eagle just seemed to know how.

Sighing mentally Hermione turned to look back up to the sky, now crested with hues of pink and orange. She would have to head back, soon. It wasn't her place to stay here and, if she believed in fate she could conclude it was probably not her destiny to live a life as easy as this. Really, animals had it so easy: be born, grow up, eat, sleep, mate, die. No annoying hormones and ridiculous gossip, no homework, no dangerous flying spells and definitely no lost friends to care about. In a few minutes her world would be waking up. Hermione entertained herself briefly with the idea of Malfoy with a bed head before the beast half of her mind lost interest. Really, didn't that boy ever _not _look immaculately groomed?

…Not that his grooming habits were any of her concern she chastised herself.

And now she was just stalling. Before she found another point of exploration Hermione took to the skies and angled towards the black smear on the horizon. Her home. Her prison. Her only hope.

oOo

"You look terrible, Granger," Malfoy remarked blandly from across the table.

The muscle under Hermoine's eye twitched. Before she could open her mouth to retort Malfoy cut in smoothly, "I expect you to look at least somewhat… no, in your case: perfectly presentable for Mother this afternoon. No buts, Granger," he concluded.

Hermione fumed as he continued to play with the handle of a cup a small house elf had just placed before him. She wasn't stupid, damn it! Yet, Malfoy continued treating her like she was five years old. Then again, she would be horrified if he spoke to any small children in such a manner. They would probably keel over. Serves him right if they stunk up the whole stupid, expensive building.

Hermione breathed out loudly, rubbing the bridge of her nose. She really needed more sleep. Good peaceful sleep with fluffy clouds, lollipops, cute flying ponies and preferably half naked angels with soft white wings-

"Oh," she groaned. There she went again.

But the sound was enough to grab Malfoy's attention. Granger was tired; he could see it in the slump of her shoulders, her head sagging to the left and the dark circles under her eyes. Hadn't the woman ever heard of beauty sleep?

He sat back and took another appraisal. _'No sleep. Tired. Tired leads to… crabby woman and no brain function. Which results in…Mistakes being made. Mistakes mean death and death was…. Well, death. Not good,'_ Draco thought. Granger needed a really sudden and hard grip on reality. '_One doesn't fall asleep when they're scared shitless,' _reasoned Draco. Pleased to have solved one possible dilemma for the day Draco increased the volume on his glare from 'mild' to 'icy torture.' Just like he expected Granger's head shoot right up.

"What?" she snapped. She had been having a fine delusion until the static on the back of her neck woke her up. She didn't have to look far to detect the source of her aggravation, the blonde… well, The Blonde was glaring at her from across the table.

Draco thought quickly, he hadn't really planned past getting her attention. Then a light bulb, well a metaphoric non-muggle light bulb flicked on. "Your supposed dark magic capabilities… I need to confirm if you have any skill whatsoever. Otherwise this charade is over and Mother comes home to an empty house." Yes, now it seemed completely obvious. How could he have let something so simple slip? Draco gave himself a mental pat on the back. Two problems down and he hadn't even left the breakfast table.

Hermione for her part felt her fire go out with a big puff, leaving only a cold smoke trailing in her veins. She had been expecting Malfoy to broach the idea at some point. But now? The mere thought caused her muscle to tighten and her palms to sweat. "Malfoy," she began, "Do we have to do this now?" She wanted to cringe at the desperate not in her voice.

Granger's hands wouldn't stop playing with her damn empty bowl. Not that it was distracting in anyway…Nope, definitely not. "No," he drawled. "We do this now or I send you flying out the door."

Rising fluidly from his chair Draco beckoned Hermione to follow him. This couldn't be put off any longer, especially with all the inevitable work on her 'talent' that would need to be done.

Hermione was finding it difficult to move. Dark alleys, angry words and green lights were filling her vision.

"_Go to hell, Harry," she hissed furiously, her wand resting dangerously on the soft flesh of his throat. _

"What am I doing?? Why can't I move? My body isn't responding," _Hermione struggled. _"Why are you standing there?? Run, Harry! For God's sake… RUN!"

_She was screaming but no sound burst from her mouth. _"Why isn't he running!?"

"_Hermione?" he whispered, emerald eyes full of hurt and disbelief. "What's going-"_

_But then she was drawing back, body shifting into a fighting position she had no knowledge of. The fingers holding her wand were sweaty but the grip was firm. She couldn't feel the chill of the night through the heated adrenalin coursing through her veins. _

"_Crucio," she laughed. The sound was icy and void and it filled Hermione's mind with crevasses that went on forever. _

_Harry was dodging with practiced skill: rolling, sidestepping, twisting. But the alley was small and she was only missing by centimetres. Some part of her, the one horrified and powerless, couldn't deny that he wasn't fighting back. It was getting harder to hold on to her sanity; the dark magic trying to smother the last light she was holding on to. She could feel the raw power pounding in her head with each breath._

"Why? Why aren't you fighting. Harry? I can hurt you…Damn it! Fight, stupid! Please!" _She was staring straight at him but even her eyes refused to water. The curses were coming easier now, rolling off her tongue. Why was it s easy?_

_Then she was drawing a knife that wasn't hers from a cloak she never owned. The blade glowed eerie and iridescent in the moonlight._

_No…_

She blinked and the dining room snapped into focus, including Malfoy's face inches from hers. "Wasn't he on the other side of the room?" she pondered groggily.

Draco peered curiously into her face, so close he could see himself projected in her terrified eyes. The slight pulse in her neck confirmed she was alive but she looked dead to the world. "Granger?"

Then the colour flooded back into her face and her eyes sparked to life. Draco caught up in the flecks of emeralds blazing in her unnatural eyes didn't acknowledge her until…

"Ah, you're a little close, Malfoy. I can't get out," Hermione mumbled.

Malfoy shrugged nonchalantly and withdrew. But even as he began walking back out the door he kept a firm eye on her movements. There were a million things he could say at the moment: things that would definitely cause her to wake up and fire up that temper. But, there didn't seem the incentive at the moment. You didn't need to be a genius to guess where her fears lay. He had certainly never inspired that amount of terror in Hermione Granger. Potter… Draco fought the urge to grind his teeth together. That bastard has whatever he gets coming. And…yet, he was walking through muggle-trapped corridors with the prick's best… well, ex best muggle friend in tow. The fates were cruel sometimes.

After checking again to make sure she wandered off and not from any misplaced concern of her condition Draco paused in front of a pair or double, black iron doors. Each panel on the door was embossed with a scene of Malfoy history- gruesome and political.

"Well, let's begin," he stated, watching in grim satisfaction as Hermione's eyes widened while she took in the sight of the rooms.

"_Oh god…" _Hermione concluded. However, since the thought didn't seem powerful enough in her head she decided to voice her concerns, "Shit."

Thank you all for being so patent! I'm so sorry this took so long. School work and writer's block just built up then I had a few weeks overseas. But we are back on track now. My apologies for all the mistakes. I read through an older section and felt like banging my head on the table. If anyone knows someone to Beta for a major procrastinator please let me know!

Up next- some dark magic fun. Hopefully I'll settle into a writing pattern soon. I still feel like I'm jumping around a bit and comments are definitely helpful!


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